Out Of This World
by Underdressed
Summary: Harry & Draco are more alike then they would like to admit. Both have had their futures mapped out by something Out of This World, Fate, & look for an escape from the pressure.. but Fate has a way of reminding you it's there. Slash. Cowritten.
1. Obliging Conversation

**Disclaimer:** Characters and whatnot belong to J.K. Rowling, and I bow down to her powers. The lyrics at the beginning belong to The Cure, and I am none of them, nor am I any part of Story of the Year, which owns the lyrics at the bottom of this fanfiction. -Blinks- So, yeah, ha, you can't sue me.

**Warning**: Slash. Pretty boys kissing and stuff.

**Author's Note**: This started out as a roleplay, with the amazing and talented Shannon(MagickBeing), my Lucky Charm-Cuddles- and continues as such. Part of it will be converted into story form and posted every week or two, depending not only on time, but reviews. Hint, hint. _Also_; this is pretty much our version of HBP. It might be less detailed, but if you've read it, you'll get it.

**Out of This World**

By SecondHand & MagickBeing

_Chapter One: Obliging Conversation_

**_When we look back at it all, as I know we will...  
_**- Out of This World, The Cure

Harry made his way through the large group of students on the Hogwart's Express.

He had said goodbye to Ron, and Hermione, who had to report to the other Prefects, and to Ginny who had went off to be with her friends, Dean included, only to found that it was next to impossible to find a decent place to sit his stuff and his arse. All of the compartments seemed to be filled with new faces that he'd never seen, gawking fan girls that just couldn't get enough of his scar, mean looking boys that looked as if they wanted to beat him in the head with a bludger, or the compartments were just all out impossible to reach through the massive sets of people, standing around and doing absolutely nothing. It was starting to annoy Harry.

So he flung himself at the first empty compartment he saw, throwing his trunk above the seats, and sitting with a loud sigh in the chair. That's when he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing his or her throat. He looked up slowly, about to tell the person he was sorry and that he must have missed them in his attempt to get into a decent compartment, but then he saw whom it was.

Draco Malfoy.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Much to Draco's delight, he had been able to find an empty compartment.

Of course, having his two counterparts, Crabbe and Goyle, around to push people out of the way had helped considerably. The one, long hall of the train had been unusually full. Draco took the seat the furthest from the door, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to stand there in silence for a long while before asking him where the food trolley was.

In reply, Draco lifted the corner of his mouth in distaste and sent the two dunderheads out in search for it, leaving him in the compartment in silence. Stretching slightly, Draco made himself comfortable, his gaze fixed on the blur of trees outside the window. His thoughts travelled to his father, who at that very moment was probably beginning his trial in the charges brought against him; charges that accused him of being involved with Voldemort. Needless to say, Draco was in a very sullen mood when someone, rather rudely, burst inside the small enclosure.

He watched in silence as a certain dark hairedGryffindor slammed the compartment door behind himself, the glass vibrating violently at the action, and tossed his trunk on the shelves above him. It was when Harry plopped down on the seat next to him, sighing dejectedly, that he decided to make his presence known. Softly, he cleared his throat. Slowly, Harry turned, his eyes meeting Draco's. He quickly jumped up from his seat, staring down at Draco with a look of pure loathing.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

"Bloody hell. You, of all people, it's you," Harry snarled, standing up.

Draco stared in silence, forcing his expression to remain calm.

"You've got to be kidding me. Where the hell are your cheeky Slytherin friends, and why aren't they in here with you?" He rambled, throwing a sneer at the amazingly calm face of the blond. "Better yet why the hell aren't you off badgering other students that are 'lesser than you' in your Prefect duties?"

Harry asked all of this in a rush, not attempting to move near the door of the compartment to leave, not wanting to be bombarded by the large groups of people that were now peering into the uncurtained window of the compartment, no doubt waiting to see if they fought.

At his remarks, Draco lifted an eyebrow, surveying Harry with a calm, cold gaze of his own.

Since when did _Potter_ have the right to burst into his compartment, and demand to know what he was doing? _And even worse,_ Draco thought with distaste, his gaze shifting to the compartment windows, _he brought his fan club!_

Draco looked back at Harry, and when he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously low.

"What I do with my own time, Potter, is none of your concern."

Harry ignore this, and shifted his eyes to the crowd covered window, not wanting to be there any longer.

"Fucking Hell," he snarled, glaring at the people gathered outside of the window.

There was no way he was going out into _that_.

His green eyes slipped back to the blond, as he moved back to sit, this time in the bench across from Draco.

Draco said nothing as Harry did this, painfully aware of the looks the crowd were giving him and Harry outside of the compartment.

"How long until your large friends come and kick me out?" Harry asked, wondering if Crabbe and Goyle could even get into the compartment trough the prying eyes. He was sure that Ron and Hermione were done with their Prefect things..

Prefect.

"Malfoy," he started, very calmly. It was apparent that he was going to be stuck in the compartment with the prat for a while, so he figured that he might as well try to remain calm.

"Why aren't you with the Prefects?" he asked, somewhat slowly. "It's not like you to pass up a chance to badger the 'little ones'."

Draco's lips twisted into a smirk as he listened to Harry's ramblings, eyeing him carefully. He became aware of the fact that he had the upper hand of the situation, as did Harry, and his smirk grew.

"I'm not a Prefect this year, Potter," Draco replied calmly, ignoring the Gyffindor's first question. "As if you need to know."

Harry turned his head slightly, trying to ignore the students outside of the door, and trying his damnedest to keep from lashing out at them.

_Not a Prefect?_ He thought to himself, _really...?_

"Why?" He asked, knowing that the question would more than likely go unanswered.

He settled himself into the seat, lifting his knees to his chest. Tearing his eyes away from the glass siding, he looked at the blond, calculating him. No use, he wasn't cracking. His eyes slipped out the opposing window, the trees passing by in a blur. The silence was so loud that it sounded like chattering mouths.

Wait.

It was.

He looked back at the windowed door, where people were still pressing their faces firmly against the glass, others jumping up and standing on tippy toes to see past their friends heads.

Draco watched Harry with a blank expression, ignoring the soft why that he had uttered a few minutes before. He knew that this would be the perfect time to get back at Harry for securing his father's place in Azkaban, but the Gryffindor's company intrigued part of him.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Harry hissed as he stood suddenly, yanking the curtain down over the window.

"Bloody hell! You'd think we were caged animals." He said sitting back down, remembering when he had went to the Zoo at age eleven.

Draco smirked at the mention of caged animals and said, "While some of us do belong in cages, Potter, I agree."

Harry, ignoring the comment about caged animals, let his head fall back against the wall with a thud, the chattering filling his ears.

"They really are pathetic.." Draco continued, trailing off, his gaze switching back to the window. The curtains were rippling and lifting in the corners, as if blown by an imaginary wind.

His smirk melted into a scowl. "I think someone's trying to bewitch the curtains."

"Fucking Hell," Harry hissed. "Do they not have life's elsewhere?"

"Honestly," he said, standing once more, his hand on the handle of the door. He yanked it hard, and let it hit the wall beside him. His voice rang out as he warded the crowed off with words, trying to keep the cursing to a minimum. Gods knew that if he said too much the world would say he had 'tainted his image.'

Finally the crowd departed, leaving only a few brave souls. Harry glared, and stepped back into the compartment, closing the door behind him.

"Better," he stated, smiling; Malfoy wasn't in the lead now. He could get out..

Which didn't explain why Harry just sat back down, and continued to look out the window, knowing he could leave at anytime.

Draco had watched Harry's quick, hasty movements in silence, smirking at the rather colourful words Harry had let slip while telling the other students to bugger off and mind their own business. Draco lifted an eyebrow as Harry slid into the seat across from him again, silently asking why he hadn't left.

Out loud, however, he drawled, "So where are your pets, Potter? The Mudblood and Weasel.. scrounging about for scraps?"

Harry shifted his eyes back to Draco.

"Prefects Malfoy, Prefects," He stated, as if the blond were dim.

"You, of all people know that they all have to meet at the start of the year on the train to Hogwarts," he shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable against the wooden bench.

"Though I don't know why Prefects hadn't come to shoo away the nosy students," Harry said offhandedly, pushing strands of black hair off of his face, out of his eyes. He was thoroughly annoyed.

"Yes, well, it doesn't look as if they were doing a very good job," sneered Draco, looking out the window.

"It's not just up to Ron and Hermione to do it, prat." Harry stated, busying himself with inspecting his fingernails. But seeing as they were short and almost nonexistent, it was pointless.

He looked up at the blond's hands and noticed that his were damn near perfect. He sneered, thinking, _ponce, _and moved his eyes up the blond's body. Everything about him seemed to be in place and as close to perfect as possible. Everything aside from his attitude, that is.

Harry had the extreme urge to mess up the longer, blond locks, and give Malfoy a more rugged makeover. He found himself smirking at the possibility of Malfoy shrieking like a girl, like he had three years ago with Buckbeak.

Priceless.

He wondered if Malfoy had changed any over those three years.

Glancing over at Harry, Draco lifted an eyebrow at the look Harry was giving him. It was a bit unnerving. _Gryffindor's shouldn't smirk, _thought Draco with disgust. He, however, pretended to ignore it, and studied Harry in silence. Harry's hair was the usual mess, his green eyes surveying Draco from beneath those retched, wiry-framed glasses, and his frame was entirely to thin. He gave Harry a cold look of his own, before his gaze shifted to the window.

Watching the scenery rush by, Draco tucked a leg beneath him, noticing that it was getting darker, and fast. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, studying the dark, ugly clouds that moved to cover the moon. Biting back a sigh, feeling a bit dozy, Draco glanced at Harry again.

Harry's smirked faded as the candles in the compartment lit up by themselves, the darkness outside seeming to have censored them.

Great. Alone in a dark compartment with Malfoy, with nobody to find them-- Ron and Hermione had probably long given up on searching for Harry, and had went to sit together, and Crabbe and Goyle were, more then likely, just to stupid to figure out which compartment belonged to their leader. And with the curtain down, and him having to yell at people, there was no way out. Not only that, but the blond sitting across from him, kept tossing him looks, and it was starting to bother Harry.

"Keep looking, I might do a trick," Harry said through his teeth.

The corner of Draco's mouth curled into a smirk, and he said, "My, my, Potter... I had no idea."

He surveyed Harry with a long, calculating glance, straightening up a bit where he sat, and sneered, "Temper, temper."

"You had no idea what?" He asked, his annoyance rising again, his eyes staring hard at the blond boy in front of him.

Noticing how he had straightened, he asked, "What's the problem Malfoy, afraid someone will come in and see you slouched?"

Draco scowled, and turned back to gaze out the window, seeming intent on studying the darkness, as the blur of trees could barely be seen now.

Harry brought both of his knees up to his chest, shifting a bit more where he sat.

After a few minutes of silence, he casually asked, "So, why aren't you a Prefect this year?"

Draco turned to look at him, his eyes glinting beneath the flickering light of the candles.

In a tone entirely to soft to belong to a Malfoy, though it still held a certain edge, he asked, "Will you stop with your bloody questions if I answer one?"

Harry surveyed him for a moment, still annoyed. Finally, he said, "Yes, just tell me why you aren't a Prefect this year, and I'll be quiet."

Draco scowled at Harry's obvious annoyance, though his scowl soon melted, and he thought about how truthful he wanted to be with Harry. After all, Harry was.. well, _Potter_. His scowl melted, and he thought about how truthful he wanted to be with Harry. After all, Harry was.. well, Harry. His eyes unusually murky, he softly replied with, "I had other things on my mind." He looked away, correcting himself, "Well, have."

Harry took in the sudden change in the boy's demeanour. His scowl softened and he had looked almost troubled for a moment. This threw Harry completely off. _What the hell? _

"Wit--" he stopped, knowing that he had received his one question, and if he spoke anymore about it, he'd be leaving the compartment with no eyebrows or something.

So he settled for, "Oh," and turned his eyes to look back out the window, fresh rain hitting the glass hard.

Draco smirked slightly at Harry's obvious inward battle. Seriously, that boy wore his emotions on his sleeve.

Draco shifted on the bench, moving his leg out from beneath him and stretching slightly. He looked out the window and then back at Harry, saying, "We should probably be changing into our robes soon. I'm sure we're almost there."

Harry nodded at the other boy, the sudden civilised nature of the small conversation making his mind spin a bit. He stood, not looking at the blond anymore and pulled his trunk down toward him. He carefully opened it to get his robes, and removed his jacket, placing it back down into the trunk and closed the lid. Sliding it back to where it was, his long, thin arms struggled to get into the robes. When he finally managed to get them on, he nodded at the blond, and sat back down, his eyes avoiding him at all cost as he felt a bit out of place.

Draco had watched Harry change in silence, finding his slightly flustered mood amusing, and when Harry took his seat, snickering, Draco softly said, "You know Potter, it helps to be smarter then the thing you're wearing."

Then, making it a point to ignore the glare given from Harry, he stood, reaching above Harry to the left for his own trunk. It didn't take him long to find his robes, as they were folded neatly on the top, and he slid the trunk back into place, sliding the robes on with surprising ease. He smirked at the memory of Harry struggling with his own robes, and sat back down, his gaze falling on Harry once more.

Harry scowled at the blond, and tried not to look as he put his robes on. Scratch that, elegantly put his robes on. Once again, perfect.

"Well, just shh." Harry said, rather immaturely, folding his arms across his chest, huffing, which caused Draco to smirk.

Harry shook his head, sighing, his hands coming up to rub his eyes.

While Harry was doing this, Draco shifted in his seat again, sliding one leg onto the bench as he turned his body, leaning slightly against the compartment wall. Bending said leg up, he propped an arm onto his knee, looking at Harry in silence. For some reason, that day, looking was something he couldn't stop doing.

It was then, oblivious to Draco's movements, that for the first time since he'd arrived on the train, Sirius stepped into his mind. It was so sudden that he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and the opening them to get the image out. No use. Sirius' image danced in front of his face. Then, in stepped Bellatrix Lestrange, then Lucius Malfoy, stopping at Draco. Vicious cycle, Harry thought, and kept angry flashes from the blond. After all, he didn't choose his family.

Draco's smirk vanished when Harry gasped suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut. Lifting an eyebrow, he shifted in his seat again. Softly, he murmured, "Potter?"

When Harry didn't answer, Draco moved, nudging Harry's leg with his boot.

"Potter?"

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Harry's eyes shot toward the blond as he moved and nudged him. He just looked at him for a moment, his hand still on his head as if it hurt to look, as if the dim light provided from the compartment candles were blinding.

"Oh," he said again. For some reason, he was about to give the blond an explanation, when the train lurched forward, bringing him back to earth.

"We're here," he said slowly, standing and steadying himself on his shaking feet. He nodded to the blond and wasted no time getting out of the compartment.

What was he thinking? Starting to explain to Malfoy for his sudden change.. and why was he letting himself get worked up over Sirius again? He was gone. Nothing Harry could do about it.

He shook his head as he approached Ron and Hermione and feigned a story about how terrible his trip had been. When, he knew, in fact, that it could have been much worse. His eyes deliberately avoided Malfoy as he walked by the blond and his cronies.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Draco had been surprised when Harry's eyes had suddenly shot open and he looked as if he was going to say something, but of course, he didn't allow himself to show it. He was almost relieved when the train lurched forward, signalling its arrival to Hogwarts, and watched in silence as Harry scurried out of the compartment as fast as he could.

Smirking, Draco followed, finding Crabbe and Goyle somewhere down the train near the exit. They had chocolate smudged on their hands and faces, and Draco's lip curled at the mere sight. Those two were truly disgusting sometimes. Withdrawing his wand from his robes, he cast a quick cleaning spell and turned to the exit, where students were rushing out of the cramped hall. He made for the door, tossing over his shoulder, "Come on."

It was dark outside, and it was beginning to sprinkle again, the dark clouds that he had seen earlier, looming over Hogwarts and its students. The clouds let out a low rumble.

His gaze shifted from the sky to the students who were rushing to get in the safety of the carriages, and grimaced at the horse-like animals standing in front of them. He unknowingly searched for a dark haired Gryffindor, who was saying something to his friends.

**_We both take the hardest punches  
And collect black eyes just to prove it  
Still we pass by just like strangers  
And we speak just like the closest enemies.  
_**- In the Shadows, Story of the Year


	2. Understanding?

**Disclaimer: **Characters and whatnot belong to J.K. Rowling, and I bow down to her powers. The lyrics at the beginning belong to The Cure, and I am none of them. Nor am I any part of A Perfect Circle, which is the group that owns the lyrics at the bottom of this fanfiction chapter.  
**Author's Note:** Again, this started out as a roleplay, and hopefully the updates from here and out _will _be happening every week or two.

A reminder; this is pretty much our-- slashy--version of HBP. It might be less detailed, but if you've read it, you'll get it, and it may give some of the book away if you haven't.

Special thanks to Rachel for beta'ing this.

**Out of This World **  
By SecondHand & MagickBeing  
.Chapter Two: Understanding?

**_You and me, wide eyed  
I wonder... _**  
- Out of This World, The Cure

Four days later, Harry wandered the halls of Hogwarts alone, his thoughts slipping back to the incident on the train ride to school. He hoped against hope that Malfoy wasn't going to go run his mouth off to his Slytherin cronies, and silently figured that if Malfoy hadn't done it yet, he wasn't going to do it at all. Well, he hoped so anyway.

He's probably forgotten about it, Harry reasoned as he made his way out to the lake. Leaning down to pick up a rock from the ground, he quietly skipped it, distracting himself.

"One…two…three…Hell," Harry muttered as the stone he was skipping across the water was suddenly interrupted by one of the tentacles of the Giant Squid.

"Bloody Squid," he muttered, grabbing a few more stones from the shore and attempting to toss them back out over the water. He knew that it was dangerous to be out and about at this time of night; he was bound to get caught and thrown into detention with Snape, or worse, that schmuck Slughorn, but he honestly and whole heartily didn't care right then.

Throwing another rock into the water, he cursed loudly as the damned Squid popped out again and took it from meeting his record of three skips.

"I'm determined to get it," Harry hissed to himself, skipping another rock.

"One…two…three…fucking hell," he hissed again, almost a repeat of every other time he had tried. Huffing, he sat down on the bumpy rocks, not caring that they were poking him rather hard in the arse.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Draco couldn't sleep.

An owl had delivered a letter from his mother earlier that evening, informing him that his father's trial wasn't going well at all, and that it would probably be over in a few short days. The Malfoy name wasn't carrying as much force as it previously had, and few of his father's contacts remained loyal. No longer did they have to fear Lucius, and their bribes had decreased considerably since his imprisonment. Even then, there were few that still accepted Malfoy money. Draco's mother had been able to find one person whose decision still held a considerable amount of weight in the Ministry, and whose loyalties were still with Lucius. With a bit of convincing, he had brought several ancient Wizarding laws into the light, and had been able to arrange a trial. Draco knew that his mother's attempt was in vain, and hoped that she did too, but figured that it was her own way of coping. He just wished that it hadn't brought up the issues it had for him.

After finding that he was unable to bring his thoughts to anything else, Draco decided that a walk in the fresh, brisk night air would do him some good.

Draco had just stepped from the castle when a figure by the lake caught his eye. From where he was standing, he couldn't quite tell who it was, and stepped closer, catching a glimpse of dark hair. Draco silently guessed who would have such an open utter lack of respect for the curfew rules-- beside himself, that is. Smirking slightly, he sauntered over to see what kept the Wizarding World's saviour up at night.

He appeared to be in some sort of stone-skipping contest with the Giant Squid. Amused, Draco stood in silence a little ways behind the Gryffindor, watching him mutter things under his breath as he skipped another stone. Draco could just barely make out the stone skipping three times across the water before a tentacle reached up and stopped it, and soon after he heard Harry mutter a few unsavoury words and fall to the stony shore.

Once again annoyed, Harry looked up at his intruder, only to see the perfect poise of the blond Slytherin stationed above his head.

Smirking, Draco kneeled down and grabbed a light grey rock. It was an unusual oval shape and nearly perfectly flat on one side. Stepping closer to Harry and the lake, Draco positioned the stone between his thumb and forefinger. With a single, quick movement of his wrist, he sent the stone skipping over the lake, leaving small ripples in its wake. It managed to skip four times before the Squid grabbed at it.

"Great," Harry muttered, his eyes watching as the squid waited to take Draco's stone until the fourth skip.

Finally, he had found something he could beat Harry at. His smirk grew.

"May I help you?" Harry asked, pulling his knees further to his chest. This was just what he needed; Malfoy badgering him about how he was better at skipping rocks. Absently, his hand picked up another stone, and he tossed it carelessly, growling lightly as it barely skipped once without the help of the Giant Squid.

"Shit," he cursed, then paused, preparing to leave. He lifted himself into a kneel, his hand sinking back into the rocks, and picked up rather smooth one. Casting a dark look in Draco's direction, he raised his hand and tossed the rock, counting softly under his breath.

"One…two…three…four."

The smile on his face was unmistakable as the rock skipped a fifth time, and then a sixth, before falling under the mercy of the Giant Squid's tentacle. Draco watched this in silence, his smirk melting when the Giant Squid waited to intervene until the sixth beat of the stone, and his lips twisted into the usual scowl.

"Yes," Harry said happily, opting to kneel the next time he wanted to skip rocks.

"So, how many points and where will you be sending me?" he asked, in an altogether happier mood. Chuckling lightly, he continued, "Oh, that's right-- you're not a Prefect, no trouble here then."

Choosing to remain silent, Draco stepped closer to the lake.

His gaze lingered on Harry for a moment longer, before he turned to stare out at the murky water. Without sparing Harry another glance, he took a few more steps forward and gracefully lowered himself to the ground, sitting with his back toward the other. He picked up another stone, tracing the smooth edges with a long, manicured finger. Unsure of himself, and why he hadn't made some witty remark or turned to leave, Draco studied the rock with lowered eyes. He silently reasoned that the only reason he had decided to put up with Harry's company was to make the Gryffindor as miserable as he felt, his mother's letter again running through his mind. _Besides, _Draco thought, _it's not like he won't get up and leave anyway._

Harry cocked his head to the side, taking in the almost slumped, unsure look of the boy in front of him. There was definitely something wrong with Malfoy.

He wasn't his usually annoying-- no, he was annoying in the sense that he always seemed to be there, and was seemed to be perfect at everything he did while being there, but he wasn't being his normal, sneering self. Harry racked his brain, the jagged stones under him digging deeply into his knee. Wincing, he lifted himself up from the ground, and took a small step towards the other boy, and then stopped.

What the hell was he going to say? It wasn't as if he wanted another conversation with the blond, and he definitely didn't want another 'Sirius episode' to happen. Frowning, he turned to leave, but at that moment, the face of Lucius Malfoy flashed back into his head.

"Oh," said Harry out loud, vaguely realising that he was saying that a lot lately. _Of course! Malfoy's probably still upset about his father being in Azkaban._

Harry's frown deepened, and he took a tentative step away, but then he was suddenly hit with the urge to stay, and the air hit him in the face just right. So he stopped, and sat back down where he was, just slightly off to the left and a little ways behind the elegant blond. He noted how Draco still had the stone in his hand, with no real intention of trying to beat Harry's six skips. _Maybe Malfoy's grown up, and realised that life isn't all about competition. _

Draco listened intently to the sound of Harry's shoes crunching on the stone, and placed the stone in his palm, continuing to stare at it as he listened to Harry step toward him, then away again. He smirked slightly, _can't Potter _ever _make up his mind? It's a wonder the Dark Lord hasn't already finished him off._ Draco could just imagine him standing there, wondering what to do as Voldemort raised his wand, a lost and confused look etched onto his face. Of course, even he knew that wasn't at all what had happened. Suddenly, the stone felt heavy in his hand, and he could almost feel Harry's presence behind him as the sound of him sitting heavily on the stone broke through the silence.

The silence returned, only much more tense, and Draco searched for something to say to break it.

Beside him, Harry was lost in thought. He knew what it was like to have your parents-- your father-- not around, evil bastard or not. He found himself wondering what Lady Malfoy was like. The only impression he had of her was from fourth year, when the family had been at the Quidditch World Cup. She had been very pretty, but held a sort of sour look about her, and Harry could easily tell where the feminine part of Draco had come from, though he had inherited his father's cold eyes.

_Stop, _thought Harry, _why are you thinking about the way he looks? _Harry scowled at himself; how was it possible that he'd chosen _that _detail to remember about the blond?

Suddenly, Draco spoke, breaking not only the silence but Harry's thoughts.

"Potter, are you playing Quidditch this year?"

Perhaps Harry wasn't the most comfortable person to talk to, and that question was probably a given, but Draco didn't want to loose himself in his thoughts. If he did, he knew he wouldn't come out unscathed. For a long moment, Draco listened in silence to Harry's breathing, as unknown to him, the other had barely heard him speak.

Slowly, Harry shook his head, the question sinking in.

"Oh, um, yes, actually. They made me Captain," he said, though it wasn't boastful at all.

He bit his lip. _Great conversation._

"You?"

Unknown to Harry, Draco smirked, but instead of biting back with an insulting remark, Draco dared to say something…civil. Maybe it was because it was the truth, no matter how badly Draco wanted to deny it at times, maybe it was because Draco wanted someone to talk to, or maybe it was because his lack of sleep was finally catching up with him. To Draco, it was the latter.

"I'm not surprised. You're a brilliant flyer," said Draco slowly, imagining the look Harry was giving his back, "I'm supposed to. I…."

Shifting some, he tossed the stone he was still holding from hand to hand, watching it cut through the air, as if in debate of how much to say.

Softly, he finished with, "I don't think I will though."

Yes, definitely lack of sleep.

Harry's jaw dropped, and a shiver of shock passed through his body. Blinking several times before coming up with anything to say, he swallowed hard.

"Well…thanks," he said softly, the word not coming to him easy when it was directed at Malfoy.

He sighed, his bind a bit iffy about talking to the boy. Surly it was wrong to be in such a civilised conversation with one of his biggest enemies. Well, Draco hadn't really been his enemy until last year, when Harry had landed his father in prison, and he certainly wasn't his biggest enemy. Draco seemed to be putting all of that aside for a while; couldn't Harry?

His heart actually sunk when the other announced that he wouldn't be playing Quidditch.

"Well, why not? You're good, my only real competition out there," he protested, scooting so that he was still a distance away, but next to the blond.

Draco glanced at Harry, who was now sitting beside him, but with about half a meter of grass between them. He could sense the Gryffindor was a bit uncomfortable, and smirked slightly. A bit was probably an understatement.

"It's the truth," he started, looking back out at the water. "And I never said I was definitely going to quit…I'm just thinking about it."

He studied the reflection in the water; the clouds had just parted to show the moon, which had a brilliant, pale glow encircling it, and the stars were surprisingly bright in the velvet sky. He could just see his own reflection on the edge of the water, dressed entirely in black with a head of silver-blond hair. He looked away, staring down at his palms, his mother's last words before he had departed for Hogwart's express running through his mind.

"_Sometimes you look so much like your father…."_

Harry bit his lip, the overly soft voice of the Slytherin getting to him, throwing him off again. He sighed lightly, nodding.

"You shouldn't. I mean, I have no power over you, but it'd be nice to have some competition this year," he stated.

There, that wasn't too uncomfortable.

It didn't make it sound as if the two were friends; Merlin knew that they weren't. His eyes followed the blond's out over the water, where he too could see their reflections. Draco, dark clothed with silver hair that tickled his chin lightly, and then Harry, with lighter clothes and dark, unruly hair. It was ironic that Malfoy, who was the 'evil' one, had such light features, while Harry had dark ones.

Suddenly, the breeze hit his face extra hard, the summer air a bit cold, and he was surprised that it hadn't started raining yet. As Harry stared out over the water at their reflections, he realised that he was only wearing a thin tee shirt, and a pair of dark blue flannel pants.

"Bloody hell," he said softly.

It took a moment for Draco to realise Harry was talking again, lost in the memory of his mother standing in front of him before he left to return to school. For a moment, he remembered that he thought she was going to break down and cry in the middle of the station. It wouldn't have surprised him, really. While he had been taught what was acceptable for a Malfoy to do in public, and what wasn't, Draco knew the feeling of just wanting to ignore everything and everyone around him and just break down. He inwardly grimaced at his weak thoughts, and pulled himself from the recesses of his mind.

Looking at Harry as another gust of wind hit their faces, he smirked and remarked, "Nice pyjamas, Potter."

Harry wrapped his arms around his body, shifting so that the rocks moved out of his way, and pulled his knees up to his chest. He had originally came out there to feel sorry for himself, and hadn't planned on getting a visitor that seemed, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, upset about something. Harry cocked his head, looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye, taking in the soft sigh that left his smooth lips. In return, Harry sighed as well, and turned to look back out at the lake, his own problems slipping into his mind.

What was he going to do? How was he going to win? How was he going to do it without Sirius?

_You did it for thirteen years without him, you can do it now, _his mind said, rather annoyingly. _He would have told you the same._

His thoughts then slipped to Dumbledore, and the letter he had received the day before, stating that he wanted to talk to Harry, and that he would be personally attending to part of his lessons.

_What the hell could it be? _Harry wondered. _And why the hell is Malfoy being so civil, when I'm the one that placed his father in Azkaban? _It didn't add up. _Great, it's probably a trick. Let him think it's alright, that he's safe, and then attack. Just like a Malfoy._

Harry shook his head, looking over at the blond as if he had two heads.

Joking? Malfoy…with Harry? Woah.

"Well, it wasn't as if I expected company," he said, trying to sound irritated.

Draco smirked.

"As if you'd have dressed up for the occasion." Silently, he added, _you probably wouldn't even be here._ "Why are you here, anyway?"

Draco gave Harry a side-long glance, aware that the Gryffindor wouldn't answer. Some things were too private, and even if Harry would answer, Draco had the sinking feeling he really didn't want to know. Draco sighed, flicking a few strands of hair from his face.

His gaze shifted, and he stared down at his pale hands, scratching something green from the surface of the stone he was still holding. He didn't know why he hadn't done something with it, but he guessed it was probably to serve as a distraction from the oddly comforting silence around Harry and himself.

Harry stared hard at the other boy, almost as if he was calculating him, sizing him up for something.

"Thinking," he finally responded, his eyes not leaving the sunken demeanor of the boy next to him. He knew that he should go back inside. If he got caught, he'd be spending time with a far less pleasant Slytherin; Professor Snape, who had made an extra effort to call Harry out now that he had become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The subject was slowly fading from being his favorite subject, to his least, all because of the spiteful man that taught it. Vaguely, Harry wondered when he had started addressing his time spent with Draco as pleasant.

Harry knew that he was avoiding the question he really wanted to ask Draco; he wanted to know why the boy wasn't hexing him into next year for putting his father in prison. So, trying to be calm, he asked, "What's the catch?"

Draco was slightly surprised at Harry's reply; he hadn't really expected the Gryffindor to answer him at all, but instead dodge the question with one of his own, even if his answer hadn't been that in-depth. He straightened slightly, sensing Harry's emerald gaze on him, and turned to look at Harry, lifting an eyebrow. Other than that his expression was blank.

"The catch for what, Potter?"

Again, Draco found the look that Harry was giving him a bit unnerving. It reminded Draco of a look someone gave another person when they thought they knew something the other person didn't. He didn't back down, however, and met Harry's calculating gaze with one of his own.

Harry stared, scrunching his face up as if he didn't believe the other boy, and shook his head.

"Don't play dumb with me, you know what I mean," he said, nodding.

Draco just looked at him.

"Gods, why the Hell are you being so…," Harry paused. He was going to say nice, but nice and Malfoy didn't fit into the same sentence together. Finally, he finished, "civil with me?"

Turning his body a bit, he continued, almost to himself, "You're talking to me, and not angrily. It's amazing, really. I mean, there has to be some sort of catch, you have to have some sort of motive. Malfoy's don't do favours, or anything close to that, unless it benefits them." He paused, then shrugged, "so what are you trying to benefit from this?"

Draco's eyes narrowed into slits.

Of course, Harry was right. This was very uncharacteristic of him. He shouldn't be sitting here, trying to get _along _with Potter. He was supposed to make the boy's life a living hell, getting him when and where Voldemort couldn't. Scowling, Draco turned back to the lake, and chucked the stone he was holding into the water. The aftermath ripples interrupted the peaceful reflection of the sky, and Harry sitting on the shore, and Draco pressed his hands to the ground, ignoring the digging sensation.

Harry's eyes flickered to the water as his reflection rippled and distorted, and he shifted his eyes to Draco, watching under furrowed brows as the other stood with a look of defiance.

Withdrawing his wand from his pants, Draco turned to Harry and pointed it at him with a steady hand.

"Is this better?"

Draco's voice had returned to the usual scorning drawl, and he looked down at Harry with a dark scowl.

_Hell, _Harry thought to himself, _know thine enemy._

He shook his head, and without moving, he spoke.

"Put yourself in my shoes. Voldemort wants me, and your father was found working for him. I'm only to assume that you're working for him as well."

He bit his lip, his hand not daring to move towards the string in his pajama bottoms to get his wand.

Draco's voice was dangerously low when he spoke, and almost came out as a snarl.

"I'm not my father, Potter."

A strong gust of wind hit Draco's face, and he stood perfectly still, his own voice echoing in his mind. Suddenly he was back in Malfoy manor, facing his mother who sat unmoving in his father's study, staring at the scraps of parchment spread across the desk. As she looked up at him with dark eyes, tears streaming down her face and murmured his father's name again, Draco heard his own voice answer; _I'm not my father. _

Harry's eyes focused on the blond, taking in the odd, far away look that was etched onto his pale face. He cocked his head to the side, and without really thinking, nodded slightly when the boy stated that he wasn't his father. Harry instantly knew what the blond must go through every time someone expected him to be just like his father. He thought of Snape; how the man thought the same thing of Harry. Then, his thoughts switched to the Wizarding World; how they expected him to save them, just because he was marked, just because he was The Boy Who Lived. Harry wasn't saying that he wasn't the one that would do it, the prophesy stated that he would and even if it was wrong, Harry had his own reasons.

But all of the pressure and assumption made it hard not to get angry. He bit his lip.

Draco blinked away the haze of memories and his scowl melted. Slowly, he lowered his wand, though he was clenching it so hard in his hand that for a moment, he feared it would break. Loosening his grip, he slid it back into his pants, and focused on Harry with murky eyes.

"I'm not my father," he repeated softly, his jaw clenched.

As if in slow motion, Harry stood, and Draco watched this without moving, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. While Draco was more elegant and filled his small form well, Harry was lanky, and while toned, was still thin, making him look wiry next to the blond. Despite this, they stood eye to eye, neither taller than the other.

Harry racked his brain for something witty, something accusing about how he shouldn't act like it if he wasn't, but all he could manage was, "I know."

That was all Draco could concentrate on the moment it left Harry's mouth and he nodded slightly, as if in thanks.

He relaxed some, turning to stare up at the sky.

"We should probably be going in..." He muttered softly, fixing Harry with his intense gaze again.

He was unsure of why he suggested Harry go inside too; usually he would have encouraged, or tricked him into staying out until Filch was patrolling the grounds and he was sure to be caught. _Tonight is rather unusual, _Draco found himself thinking.

Harry nodded in response, his teeth biting on the piece of flesh that he had earlier placed between his teeth.

"Yeah," he said softly, though he wasn't sure what he was answering to.

"It's late. Don't want your fan club to come looking for you, and see..." Draco trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. He smirked slightly, though somehow he knew that it looked different this time, and said, "My reputation would be ruined."

It was then, scowling a bit at the comment about his fan club, Harry realised how close he was to Draco, and that he didn't need to be. He stepped away, thinking how Draco's comment had went right along with the lines of being the hero everyone expected him to be; a model student, one that never did anything wrong. He had proved the world wrong on both accounts, but some of them still believed that he could do it.

"They can all piss off," he said, sending a sneer toward the castle as if that would show them.

Draco lifted an eyebrow to this; to the look Harry gave the castle, as if in secret defiance, but said nothing.

"You go ahead," Harry said, "if we're caught going in at the same time, your crowd would hear about it, and you're right; your reputation would be ruined. My friends would just think you had tried getting me into trouble, and think nothing of it..."

He moved closer to the lake, making to sit down, having the urge to turn and tell the other boy that he actually didn't mind his company. He said nothing, though, and merely nodded.

"Night."

Draco didn't move though, as Harry did all of this, and his eyes remained focused on Harry's back. For some reason, he wasn't sure if he should leave.

A few more minutes wouldn't kill him, and besides, Filch didn't patrol until the moon was all the way into the sky. He cast another silent look at the stars, and then back at Harry.

Softly, he started to say something, but then stopped, biting his tongue, unsure of what he would have said. This was just too weird. Slowly, Draco nodded, though he knew the Gryffindor couldn't see him.

Harry wanted to turn around and see if the other had stayed after he had started to speak, as the only sound he could hear was the faint splashing of the mermaids and the Giant Squid far out in the lake playing around in the soft moonlight. He didn't hear the sound of feet, but he still didn't look behind him.

What would he say if he did?

What; they were friends now, just because they somehow understood each other's point of view, even though they had spoken very few words about it?

Harry then found himself thinking about how he had liked Malfoy being there, how they seemed to connect to each other, though for odd reasons. It felt as if someone else finally understood what it was like to be expected to do things, even if they didn't want to do all that went with the task.

He shook his head, sighing softly.

"Great," he said aloud, "now I fancy Malfoy's company."

He then snapped his mouth shut, hoping the blond had left.

At first, the Gryffindor seemed unaware of his presence. Draco was about to say goodnight when Harry opened his mouth, mumbling something to himself that Draco _barely _caught. He smirked slightly, clearing his throat. He noticed the way Harry's back tensed at the noise, and his smirk grew. Oh, what a perfect taunting opportunity this could turn out to be. Yet Draco said nothing, waiting for the Gryffindor to turn.

It was then that Harry heard it; the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.

He tensed, his back going rigid, and his breath caught in his throat.

_Shit_, he said to himself, stopping himself from shaking his head.

He could just imagine how the blond was standing there, that trademark sneer on his face with his arms crossed over his chest smugly.

Letting out a big sigh, he turned his body slightly, green eyes flashing in the moonlight to meet his companion's.

Somehow, he managed to find his voice, smoothly saying, "I thought you said you were going. You know, your reputation and all..."

Draco had indeed crossed his arms over his chest, and was still smirking when Harry turned to meet his gaze. He said nothing at Harry's comment, continuing to smirk, and after a long moment of just standing there and staring, he nodded slightly, drawling, "Of course. G'night."

_Maybe he didn't hear it at all,_ he thought to himself, though he found it very doubtful with the way Draco was smirking at him, arms crossed, just the way Harry had imagined he would be. He fought to keep himself from biting his lip in front of the blond. Maybe he didn't hear it at all, he thought to himself, finding it very doubtful judging the way the other was smirking at him, arms crossed, just the way Harry had thought he would be.

Draco turned, taking a few steps towards the castle before stopping in his tracks. Unsure of what suddenly possessed him, he turned slightly and tossed over his shoulder, "Oh, and Potter?"

He paused, assuring himself Harry's attention. It was too late to stop now.

"You're not too bad yourself." With that, he turned again, continuing on the long walk toward the castle, his smirk back in place. He could just imagine the look Harry was giving his retreating back, and he inwardly snickered.

"Wh-- Oh," was all he managed to say, eyes wide as the boy stepped into the shadows of the grounds, so that all you could see was his blond head, bobbing lightly as he walked back.

Imagine that. Draco liked hanging out with him as well.

Harry didn't know whether to smirk in satisfaction, or blush.

He chuckled slightly when the urge to run after the boy and inform him that he was free this time every night to simply sit with and try to figure each other out hit him. He did blush this time, deep red at the mere thought, settling himself back in to stare out at the lake.

**_As I walk on through this wicked world,_**  
**_Searching for light in the darkness of insanity,_**  
**_I ask myself, Is all hope lost?_**  
**_Is there only pain and hatred and misery?_**  
**_And each time I feel like this inside,_**  
**_There's one thing I wanna know,_**  
**_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_**  
- What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love, and Understanding, A Perfect Circle


	3. Thoughtful

**Disclaimer:** Characters and whatnot belong to J.K. Rowling, and I bow down to her powers. The lyrics at the beginning belong to The Cure, and I am none of them. Nor am I any part of Fate's Warning, which is the group that owns the lyrics at the bottom of this fanfiction chapter.

**Author's Note:** This story has officially been upgraded to a co-written story, and will no longer be referred to as a roleplay.We have put a lot of thought into this, along with a lot of time, and feel it deserves to be recognized as a co-written piece.

Oh, and another reminder; this is pretty much our-- slashy--version of HBP. It might be less detailed, but if you've read it, you'll get it, and it may give some of the book away if you haven't.

Special thanks to Kasey for beta'ing this.

.x.

**Out of This World**  
By SecondHand & MagickBeing  
.Chapter Three: Thoughtful

**_Will we really remember, how it feels to be this alive?_**  
- Out of This World, The Cure

The next few days went by uneventful for Draco. Most of the time he spent shut up in his dormitory, awaiting a letter from his mother.

By the sounds of it, his father's trial would be coming to an end soon, and honestly, he was surprised it had lasted so long. Every now and then, when his thoughts were too much to bare, he would go outside and sit by the lake, and was surprised when he found himself hoping that a certain raven-haired Gryffindor would find him.

When Harry was around, Draco always seemed to have something else to focus on.

Something besides his father's trial, his mother's depression, and besides what he was expected to do in the near future. It had always been like that, really; Harry proved to be a sort of outlet for Draco, and vise versa.

It was a night similar to that second meeting, when he next saw Harry-- alone that is. The sky was darker than usual, and a few clouds were scattered across the velvet blanket of stars. Draco stared up at the Quidditch field with dark eyes, inhaling the thick scent of decaying leaves and fresh cut grass. He stepped out onto the field, his broom in hand, and mounted it without a second thought. Quidditch season would be starting soon, and he was still unsure whether or not he was going to quit.

It would, after all, take his mind off of things, which could prove to be a good thing.

Pushing off of the ground, Draco smiled slightly at the feeling of the wind against his body as he shot off into the air, performing a loop around one of the goal posts. He had almost forgotten what this feeling was like; the feeling of utter peace and relaxation. Pushing down on the handle of his broom, he did a slight dip, closing his eyes against the wind.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

The next few days had been quite different for Harry.

He had started his lessons with Dumbledore and they only served to make Harry more determined to defeat Voldemort. While unrelated, this determination was accompanied by the off glances he found himself throwing at Draco. He had to stop that, and stop himself from going out to his favourite thinking spot-- the lake-- because he knew that the blond was there. So he found himself, around eight P.M. with his broom in hand, heading out to the Quidditch pitch.

He flew for about an hour before landing and climbing up into the Quidditch stands. His back pressed against the benches, with his broom lying between the incline, he relaxed. Placing both of his hands beneath his head, and his feet up on the bench, he found himself feeling good about the fly he had just had; the way he had let his mind just let go of everything that was weighing him down.

His eyes took in the stars and heavy rain clouds, and part of him wanted the water to come, drop on him, hit him in the face and wash away all of the crap. Impossible, he knew, but he felt it would help. Draco Malfoy was so far from his thoughts this time, that when Harry saw a whirr of white flash in the sky, he thought it was lightening. That was, until it headed up instead of down. Snapping his head to the side, Harry's eyes widened, and he froze.

_Does Malfoy know I'm here? _wondered Harry. _Probably._

Lifting himself up to see better, Harry smiled slightly at the graceful style of flying the blond showed; unlike his, which was wild and carefree. Harry sighed lightly, not realizing he was staring.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Draco relaxed into the wind, leaning forward a bit as he continued his downward spiral. He couldn't help but wonder if it would hurt to hit the ground. But instead, he pulled up a bit on his handle and opened his eyes, the broom leveling out as he did another loop. Thunder sounded in the distance, and he looked up at the sky. The once scattered clouds were meshed together now, looming in the horizon, and he sighed. Despite what many would believe, he loved the rain. Draco did another loop, lightning slicing through the clouds near the goal post behind him, and decided it would be better to watch the storm from below. Scanning the ground, Draco became aware of a certain Gryffindor on the benches.

Smirking slightly, he pushed down on the broom handle, shooting downward toward the grass. He jumped from his broom a quarter of a meter above the grass, while Harry watched him silently. Broom in hand, he stepped toward the benches, looking calmly at the other.

"Potter," he said, nodding slightly.

At first, Harry had thought he was going to be ignored, which would have been just as uncharacteristic as the small nod and uttered last name. Cocking his head to the side, Harry offered him a sort of smile and nodded back.

"Malfoy."

_Okay, _he thought to himself, _that was all together too nice to be coming from me, and directed at Malfoy._ And he was smiling! He shook his head, clearly annoyed with himself. Yet, he still didn't stop with it.

"And you want to quit the team," he added, a sort of smug look on his face, as he laid his head back down on the bench, attempting to balance himself before closing his eyes. He could feel the blond looking at him, from a meter or so away.

Draco smirked slightly, saying, "Actually. I might not. I think it would be good to have something..." he paused, knowing he had said to much but that there really wasn't a point in stopping now, and finished with, "to take my mind off of things."

Harry's eyes fluttered a bit when the blond spoke of staying on the team. Harry figured his slow pause was from the pressure about his father, family and such. He had no clue that it was much, much deeper than that.

Draco studied the Gryffindor in silence for a moment, noting the broom beside him, and smiled slightly, once he was sure that Harry had his eyes closed. Clearing his face, he asked, "Mind if I join you?"

He motioned to the bench with one hand, still holding his broom in the other. The clouds above him let out another loud roar of thunder, and for a moment, everything was illuminated as another bolt of lightning cut through the clouds.

With Harry's eyes still closed, he couldn't see the other as he spoke, so when the words 'mind if I join you?' hit him, his first thought was-- _he wants to lay on the bench with me?_ After that, his eyes flew open and he gave the boy a calculating look.

Draco lifted an eyebrow at that look, and couldn't help but wonder what Harry was thinking.

Harry inwardly cursed himself; of course Draco just wanted to sit with him. He sat back up and moved over, as if he needed to with the long rows of benches that stretched out on either side of him. Nodding slightly he said, "Sure, though I think it might pour on us at any moment."

He looked back up at the castle.

Stepping up onto the benches and sitting on the one below Harry, Draco straddled the wooden plank with his legs so that he could face the Gryffindor, causing Harry to arch an eyebrow. It was a bit out of character for the boy, but at this rate, nothing could surprise him. It was just that the arrogant blond was always so... proper-- upper classed. He usually never slouched (aside from the train) and always seemed to sit with a perfect poise and a delicate manner.

Unaware to Harry's thoughts, Draco glanced up at the sky at the predicament of rain and smirked, looking back at Harry.

"Well, I don't mind. You shouldn't either; some of us need showers."

Draco's voice was unusually good humoured, and he silently cursed. Why was he being so friendly? They were supposed to be enemies!

Harry found himself smirking in disbelief at the joke Draco cracked.

"Oh dear, it's the Armageddon isn't it? A Malfoy just cracked a joke, and it wasn't a hurtful one..." he said playfully, leaning back so that his elbows were on the bench behind him, and his feet were propped up beside Malfoy. His chuckle seemed to be more of a light giggle, but Harry paid that no attention.

"Brilliant comeback, Potter," Draco drawled softly, straightening slightly at the look Harry was giving him.

Harry scowled.

"I wasn't really looking for a comeback, just, joking..."

Draco ignored the comment and looked up at the sky, blinking as he felt the first drop of cold rain hit his bare skin. Closing his eyes, a few more drops hit his face before he lowered it and looked back at Harry, who was giving him another weird look.

He lifted an eyebrow, begrudgingly saying, "What? I like the rain."

He could just imagine how uncharacteristic that sounded, and smirked slightly at the thought.

If only his father knew what he was doing... and that thought wiped the smirk right off of his face, causing him to become silent.

Harry silently took the sight of the boy basking in the sprinkles to heart, and promised to remember it for as long as he was alive. Maybe he could someday use it against the Slytherin; pensives would come in handy. He pushed the nagging words _you just want to remember because it's priceless, _that his brain was chanting like a mantra in his head, away.

He watched curiously as the look of... _bliss_ faded from the blond and his eyes became dark again.

Draco lifted an eyebrow, studying Harry with murky eyes. He shouldn't be sitting here, conversating as if he didn't hate the Gryffindor.

_Malfoy's don't have friends. They have followers._

He closed his eyes, his father's voice echoing in his mind, but was pulled from his thoughts when Harry spoke again.

Instead of asking what was wrong, Harry let himself smile.

"I don't usually like the rain."

It was true-- Harry liked those rare days where the sun shined, if only a bit, and the leaves were brilliant oranges, reds, yellows, and browns... he liked Autumn.

Too bad those days with no rain only happened a few times a year.

"But on nights like tonight..." he paused, then recovered, "you know, stars, and clouds."

His scowl deepened.

"It just fits."

He nodded, determined to cover the comment up, and lifted his face to the pretty, twinkling sky.

Draco smirked slightly; trying to slip from his sullen demeanour, and almost bit the inside of his cheek to stop from saying something smart. Nodding, Draco looked back at the sky. Somehow, he could imagine Harry as a sunny-autumn person. Patches of glittery, inky blue could be seen in the middle of the clouds, and he hid a smile. A gust of wind funneled some of the leaves from beneath the benches, and the golds and reds drifted over the ground and were lifted through the air. The wind dispersed, and the leaves littered the benches.

Harry just sat, a small, smug-- no-- satisfied smile on his face. He crossed his ankles together, wiggling a bit to get more comfortable. The sprinkles didn't let up, nor did they become harder. The sensation was that of a tickle. He wrinkled his nose, the drift of leaves catching his attention. The summer would be coming to an end pretty soon, and autumn would be there. Sun or no sun, he loved it. It looked like the world was on fire.

Draco looked down, picking a leaf off of his dark pants, and tossed it at Harry.

He smirked and said, "Since you're so fond of autumn and all."

Thinking of autumn... Harry picked the reddening leaf up off of his pants, his eyes taking in the green and red appearance. _Like Christmas time,_ he thought, smiling lightly.

Smirking slightly, Draco watched as Harry picked at the leaf he had tossed at him, a light smile gracing his features. Harry looked so peaceful, with the pale glow of the moon between the clouds shining down on him, highlighting his eyes. Then the Gryffindor turned to him, ruining the effect, and asked him suspiciously, "Wait, how did you know I liked autumn?"

Gods, was the blond reading his mind? He hoped not.

Draco's smirk melted slightly, and his gaze met Harry's.

"I don't usually like the rain. But on nights like tonight..." he paused, motioning to the crimson hues of the trees behind the Quidditch pitch, "besides... you just seem like an autumn person."

"And they're your house colours," he added as an afterthought, more to himself then to Harry. He shrugged; somehow making the small, careless movement look poised and thought out.

Harry nodded; he did like his house colours. They seemed to blend well, as did the green and the sliver in Slytherin.

He shook his head lightly.

"In that case, I'll cherish this rare gift forever." He batted his lashes playfully, making a big show of carefully placing the perfectly shaped leaf in the pocket of his black Gryffindor robes, that he smartly wore this time instead of his pajamas.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the Gryffindor's antics. _Malfoy's do _**not** _roll their eyes_, he said to himself silently, playing with the hem of his dark grey turtleneck. He could still feel the constant drip of the clouds above, and felt surprisingly relaxed.

Harry sat with the blond for a moment, looking up at the lightly sprinkling sky before speaking.

"Who would have thought you'd like rain," he said, almost adding, _you'd think it'd mess up your hair_, or something similar. But he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to offend the other.

Harry sighed. Since when did he care if he offended him? This was getting ridiculous. They were _not_ friends. All the same, he made no attempt to move.

Harry found himself, with his head tilted to the side and his eyes misty, staring at the blond. Draco's hair was hanging in his face, just a bit. He looked as if he'd just gotten out of the shower room while other people were taking showers, and he had just been standing there. Or like he'd been sweating up a storm. Either way, it suited him. It made him look more... handsome-- no, human. He remembered his thoughts from the train and how he had had the sudden urge to reach out and mess up the blond hair. He had that urge again, but this time it would be playful, friendly, like something he'd do to Ron. Just ruffle the blond hair and laugh at the way it messed up. He wondered if it would feel silky like Ron's did. Maybe Harry's own thoughts were the reason he looked so startled when the other boy spoke.

Draco had barely heard Harry speak, but could just imagine the thoughts he had added to himself afterwards. He found himself muttering, "Who would have thought that we'd be sitting here, star gazing, without being stupefied? Who would have thought that we could actually be civil to each other? Who would have thought. It's just that, Potter. Who would have thought. Appearances can be deceiving..."

Draco closed his eyes at those last few words, and ducked his head to the side slightly, deciding to stare out at the grass instead of at Harry. Damn his sudden lack of self-control.

Maybe he should look into spelling his mouth shut.

Looks were deceiving; again it was as if the blond was reading Harry's thoughts. All he could manage to say was, "Yeah, you're right."

Draco hid a smile; Harry had just said the two words Draco hadn't ever imagined he could say, directed to him anyways. Draco remained silent and continued to stare out at the grass, now used to the soft drops of rain that hit his skin. He swatted a strand of wet hair from his face, not caring that he was getting soaked. He found the silence around Harry and himself oddly comforting, unlike the silence that usually surrounded him; even with his own, so-called friends.

_That's because Malfoy's don't have friends, _he reminded himself silently, his thoughts taking on his father's voice again. _They have followers. _

He smirked slightly, trying not to let his mood sink any lower. He had come out here to _stop _thinking about his father, not think about him more. Draco let out a soft sigh, shifting his eyes to the wooden plank between his legs, and rubbed at a dark spot with his finger.

Harry's lips twitched lightly when the blond brushed the strand of hair that was in his face away. _That's good, I wont have to think about doing it for him now_, he thought. He noticed how when he was around Draco that he didn't feel the _need_ to talk, like he did with Ron and Hermione. The silence was just there, comfortable and nice. But he wanted to talk, wanted to say something-- anything-- ask the blond what was going through his mind, spill to him what was going through his. He felt that if he were asked, he would just open up and tell Draco everything that was going on.

_Nice. Gods..._ he was losing it. Lucius or no Lucius, this was still Draco Malfoy and for all Harry knew, he could have been told to do this.

Seemed likely.

"It's late," he said simply, cringing at the randomness.

Draco looked up at the sound of Harry's voice. The look Harry was giving him again was a bit unnerving, and Draco only nodded. After a moment of staring at each other, he broke the silence.

"Do you want to go back in?"

His face blank, Draco's gaze switched back to the bench. He had to bite his tongue from saying something about Harry hopefully not getting sick because of this. That comment would just not do. _We aren't friends_, Draco thought. _I should try to remember that. And anyways, since when do I want to be friends with _Potter_? The mere thought is ludicrous! _He inwardly scowled. _Then why am I acting so friendly? _

He closed his eyes when his thoughts only replied with a meek, _I don't know._

Harry cocked his head to the side, his feet dropping from the bench to the plank in between where his broom was. He shifted his gaze from the sky to the Quidditch Pitch.

"No," he said without really thinking about it.

He smiled lightly and looked back at the blond.

"I feel like flying."

Draco smirked, looking up Harry. His eyes lit up at the thought of flying, and maybe the fact that Harry wasn't leaving-- yet, anyways. But he quickly dismissed the latter.

Harry lifted his broom from the ground, and stood, positioning himself on top of it.

"Catch me if you can," he said playfully, a bit of that old competition coming back in his voice. Of course, it wasn't that old, and of course he was only playing around, but he wanted to fly. And he wasn't quite sure he wanted to let the blond go inside the castle yet.

"You're on."

Standing, Draco grabbed his broom and jumped from the stands, landing gracefully on his feet. He stood there for a moment, the ground soggy beneath his boots, and watched as Harry shot up into the air. He wondered if the Gryffindor knew how talented he was.

Mounting his own broom, Draco shot off after him, the rain lashing at his face as he did so. It tingled, but it wasn't a painful feeling. Slowing, Draco hovered in the air for a moment, enjoying the sight of Harry's flying. Unlike his own flying, which was calculating yet graceful, Harry was born to fly. Harry's flying was natural. Free. It was then that Draco did something very uncharacteristic for him when in front of people, especially a Gryffindor. His mouth twisted into a small grin.

Harry let himself soar through the air, his fingers holding only lightly onto the broom for support. He loved the feel of flying, the feel of the wind against his face. He couldn't stop the smile that formed on his face; it was huge. He felt that it might have touched his ears, and he didn't care that Draco Malfoy was hovering just a few feet below him, grinning up at him. Harry's smile faded slightly. Draco Malfoy was grinning, not sneering, or the evil cousin of the grin, smirking. He was actually bloody grinning.

"Oi, Malfoy, you should grin more often, it's much more becoming of you," he said lightly, with a chuckle.

He continued to soar after that, the rain hitting his face in small drops.

Then it began to pick up and that's when he was reminded of third year, with the Dementors. It had been pouring down rain when they had come after him during the Quidditch game, and Harry had been traveling upwards, just like this. His balance went off a little, but he steadied himself quickly, his smile fading into a haunted look. He turned, trying to hide it from Draco's view. You'd think that after all Harry had been through, Dementor's would have been far away in his mind. Guess not.

Draco just heard what Harry said as the rain picked up, drowning out the sound of his laughter. But Draco's grin didn't fade. Deciding that it was time to move, he strategically leveled his broom and shot forward, until he was meters under Harry in the sky. It was sort of hard to keep up with Harry, but he managed. Harry was no longer grinning, Draco noted, as he looked up at the Gryffindor. He looked troubled.

Before Draco could stop himself, he heard his own voice shout over the rain, "You alright, Potter?"

Harry blinked, the sound of Draco's voice bringing him away from the not so fond memories of third year. He looked down at the blond, a quick surge of anger sweeping through him.

"I'm fine," he said softly, though really he wanted to snap at him, tell him that no, he wasn't alright, and that nothing would ever be alright for him, but he knew that he wasn't the only one that felt that way. He found himself wondering if he were the only one that had, for real, the weight of not just the Wizarding World, but also the Muggle World on his shoulders.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to move.

"Just lost my balance."

Draco always prided himself on being a good judge of people's emotions; an observational skill he had gotten from his father, originally taught to him to help him tell when people were lying. And right now, he was positive that there was more to it then what he heard Harry shout down at him, but he didn't say anything. Instead he nodded slightly, his grin fading. He wasn't sure if Harry had seen the small gesture, but still, he remained silent. He wasn't going to press the Gryffindor; hell, they were barely getting along.

As Harry flew, he forced himself to keep his eyes from straying to his Slytherin companion. His head was starting to hurt and his teeth, by now, were chattering from the cold rain, and yet he still didn't want to go in. If he had it his way, he wouldn't go back in the rest of the night. He'd take off and fly and fly until his broom couldn't handle it anymore. But that was impossible; the grounds were extra guarded with the war so close.

It wasn't fair.

Just when he was having fun, something had to slap him in the face and remind him of who he was, is and of what he's supposed to do.

Then something else slapped him in the face. He was scared, afraid of it all. He looked over at the blond. What was Harry supposed to do when they faced off, kill him?

How could he, unless Draco did something terrible? And he hadn't, not really. Harry didn't think he could do it.

_I bet Malfoy would kill me in a heartbeat_, he thought. _Or maybe not_. Biting his lip, as if nervous, Harry sped up to the Slytherin, and slowed right next to him, closer than they had been that night a few days ago when they'd sat next to each other in front of the lake.

Just as Draco had passed Harry, he could hear his broom slice through the air as he sped up. Instead of speeding up, Draco glanced behind him, and again, the thought that Harry looked troubled hit him. Soon, Harry's broom was beside Draco's in the air, and they were dangerously close; if Draco had wanted to, he could have reached out and grabbed Harry. Or, for that matter, pushed him. But he didn't want to, and a small part of him was angry because of that. Things had been so confusing these past few days, what with his father's trial, his mother's depression... the choice he had yet to make, and now, the one thing he could count on his entire five years at Hogwarts was different. He had always been able to count on Harry. He had always been able to count on the Gryffindor to make him angry, to make him feel; to stop him from wallowing in self-pity, and in some ways, to remind him that he didn't have it as bad as he thought. After all, Harry didn't just have himself to worry about, but thousands-- millions of other people to worry about to.

Draco sighed, focusing on Harry as he asked something, and his body tensed.

"Do you ever get scared?" Harry asked quietly.

_Just for reference_, he told himself...

Draco looked thoughtfully at Harry for a moment, unsure of whether or not to trust Harry, who was looking at him with dark, troubled eyes. Swallowing, Draco turned away, breaking the eye contact, and stared down at the ground as they whizzed over it. _Why should I tell him? _Draco asked himself silently, his head still bowed as lightning cracked overhead. _Because you need to tell someone. _The moment the thought crossed his mind, Draco became angry with himself. And yet, he knew that it was true. He had spent the last few years watching his fellow Slytherins, and they all seemed so certain about what they were going to do. He was anything but certain, and that scared him.

Harry waited. He held his breath as he did so, gripping the handle of the broom tightly. It was as if the answer determined what he was going to do next. And in a way it did, though he didn't know just what it would mean yet. He took in the sight of the other boy thinking, a set look on his face, jaw seemingly locked into place.

Slowly, Draco turned back to Harry and heard himself say, "Yes."

Harry sighed, loosening his grip on his handle slightly.

Draco turned his broom slightly to avoid hitting a goal post, Harry following him, and after a tense moment, he said, "Do you?"

As Draco asked this, a question that Harry had already known would come, Harry held off on answering it. He aimed his broom downwards.

His mind racing, Draco followed Harry, unsure why.

As they neared the ground, Harry stepped off onto the wet grass and promptly sat down at the bottom of the benches, not caring that they were wet. He knew the blond would follow, and he did. After all, he was already soaked. The two were surprisingly close again, the drone of rain the only thing stopping the silence when Harry turned to Draco, water dripping from his face, and answered.

"Shitless," he said bluntly. "Sometimes I get so scared, and I don't think I can do it. Any of it."

Then bit his lip, looking away from the blond.

"It builds up, and I can't even cry to make myself feel better."

"Sorry, I'm going to far, saying more than you asked for," he said quickly, bringing his knees up on the bench and pulling them to his chest.

Harry had never been a crier, and sometimes, when he needed to, he found he couldn't. He would just sit there and feel the lump in his throat constrict while his heart would beat painfully hard in his chest. He swallowed, knowing that that was too much. The blond didn't need to know of his sadness, or of his emotional habits.

He remained silent, waiting for the laughter or whatever the other boy was going to throw at him.

Draco looked at Harry with dark eyes as he told the Slytherin his feelings, and he couldn't help but wonder why Harry trusted him. But then, maybe Harry just needed someone to talk to. Draco fixed Harry with a curious gaze, as if sizing him up. Finally, he spoke, staring down at his hands, which were folded carelessly in his lap. His voice was soft, barely a murmur, and he was almost sure that Harry couldn't hear him over the sound of the rain.

Harry bit his lip, not looking at the blond as he spoke.

"Don't be sorry, Potter. You're sixteen, you shouldn't have to put up with the shit you do. I'm not even going to try convincing you that I understand, because no one can."

He paused, wondering if he was saying too much, yet after a slow, agonizing moment, he continued speaking.

"I don't think anyone knows what the future holds, not Dumbledore, or that twit of a Divination teacher, but you just have to hope that it'll turn out alright. I mean, if Fate really exists, we just need to believe it won't screw us over. We all have choices to make... and yours are harder then others, and that's not fair, but nothing about this is."

When he finished his throat was uncomfortably dry, and he closed his eyes, kicking himself. _Why_ had he just said that?

At first Harry thought that Draco wasn't talking to him at all. His voice was so soft and the wind carried it away, right down to the last raspy word. But Harry got the message and he found himself smiling goofily back at the other boy when he was finished speaking. He found himself feeling considerably better. Harry shook his head, squeezing his legs tighter to his chest, in hopes of warming up a bit.

When Draco looked up, Harry was giving him a goofy grin, and for a moment he was insulted. He had just said one of the few personal thoughts he ever had, to someone _not _related to him, and Harry had the nerve to grin? Draco steeled himself away for the laughter that would come next. For the dozenth time that night, Draco found himself doing something very unMalfoyish as he looked away from Harry, and cleared his throat. He was about to get up and leave if the Gryffindor didn't stop grinning like that, and turned to look at him as he spoke.

"Would you like to become my Doctor, Malfoy?" Harry asked, jokingly. He wondered if Draco knew what that meant, and felt the need to clarify it for him, but didn't even know where to start.

_His doctor? _Draco lifted an eyebrow. _What in the bloody hell did that mean? _As if sensing his thoughts, Harry explained.

"I mean, when you're around you usually take me from happiness to pure anger in no time flat. But just then, you did just the opposite," He stated, smiling grateful for the blonds words. Then he realised that the other boy might think that Harry was making fun of him, so he let the smile fade from his face, and he bit his lip again, blinking.

When he was finished, he was smiling again, only this time it was different. It looked more sincere; or maybe, it was because of the words he had just said, and that Draco now knew it was supposed to be sincere. Draco didn't know, but he knew that as Harry looked at him, his anger faded a bit, and he felt himself relax. When Harry spoke next, his voice was so different then what it usually was, and for once in his life, a small part of Draco was proud at himself for showing his weakness. It was soft and husky, and so unlike Harry's usually strong voice.

"Thank you. Next time I get depressed, I'll try and remember that," he said, meaning every word.

Slowly, Draco's lips twisted into another small grin, and he when he spoke, he was surprised his voice didn't shake.

"You're welcome..." he paused, trailing off, and then remembering what Harry had said earlier, said, "who would have thought?"

"Who would have thought what, Malfoy?" Harry asked, even though he thought he might know what the other boy meant when he said it. But now that they were talking, why stop?

Draco's voice was soft again when he spoke. Simply, he said in reply to Harry's question, "This."

He didn't find the look Harry was giving him as unnerving as he had earlier.

Harry smiled again, lightly at the grin that Draco was giving off. He had, in five years, never seen the blond look actually _happy_. It was strange. The last few days were just strange, and Harry, looking at Draco to see how close of attention he was paying to him, noting he was kind of looking off, pinched himself-- hard. Just to be sure he wasn't dreaming. His body didn't like it and of course he jumped slightly when it actually hurt.

"Hell," he said softly.

Draco's face melted into a smirk, and he lifted an eyebrow at Harry. "Unaccustomed to the concept of pain, Potter?"

Harry scowled at the other boy as he teased him about his pinching, though this time it was playful.

"No, I just wasn't expecting it to hurt. I was sure that this was all some form of dream and that I'd wake up at any moment."

Then, Harry's eyes strayed to the castle, and he noted that all the student rooms were dark, minus a few of the night owl students, like himself, that preferred to stay awake and sleep in the day when they could. They had to go soon, whether they liked it or not. He shouldn't be upset about it. Small problem, he was. Sighing, he looked back at the blond. Draco sensed what he was thinking. Surely, it was very late, and they needed to get in soon, if only to avoid confrontation with their houses. Softly, he said, "Think we should be getting in?" Some small part of him regretted having to admit that he already knew what was most likely the answer.

"Yeah, we really should go in, I don't think Filch will go lightly on us if he catches us dragging water into the Great Hall at ten thirty at night."

He bit his lip, waiting awkwardly, not knowing what to say as he prepared to stand.

"I usually come out here on Saturday's, around eight P.M., just to think..."

He shrugged, and stood, looking down at the other boy. He silently nodded.

"Night, Malfoy."

Draco remained silent throughout Harry's talking, a part of him sad to see the Gryffindor go. He lifted an eyebrow when Harry hinted that he wanted to meet again, and as he turned, couldn't help but smile to himself. Draco never made a habit of disobeying his father; he tried to be the perfect son. After all, while Lucius Malfoy could be cold to some, Draco was family, and that made him different. Despite the open rumour to most Wizarding families that the Malfoy's were all cold, hearted bastards, and probably beat on one another, Draco loved his father. He loved his father dearly; after all, he was the man that taught him what was right, and what was wrong.

Draco's smile faded as his eyes remained fixed on Harry's retreating back. Lately, though, he was having second thoughts. _And Malfoy's don't have second thoughts... _

He sighed, reaching down for his broom, which was set on the ground. He played with the polished handle in his fingers, knowing that he should go in. Yet he made no attempt to move. Even after Harry was nowhere in sight, Draco remained seated on the stands of the Quidditch pitch, the constant drone of rain invading his thoughts. He only moved when lightning struck the ground a ways away.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Harry slowly made his way back inside, broom in hand, checking around to see if the sneaky cat or old man were about. Sniffling he muttered the password to the Fat Lady, slipping inside just as an ugly old cat slinked by the door. He quietly made his way up to his dorm; all of his mates were passed out, even Ron, who usually waited up for him on the Saturdays he went out to fly. He was a bit thankful that the red head was asleep; he didn't feel like talking at the moment. Just wanted to sit and think. Slowly he began to take his wet clothes off, and threw them into a pile next to his bed. Putting on a pair of flannel pants, green and blue, and a new white t-shirt, he reached for his potions book and wand that had fallen out of his pocket. The book wasn't normal. It was interesting with all sorts of helpful writing, and he wanted to study some of it. As he bent to pick them up, his eye caught on something red poking out of his trouser pocket. Using his free hand, he reached out and pulled it free. It was the leaf that Malfoy had thrown at him. Instantly a smile came to his face. He decided then that he would really keep it, just so that he could remember the day Draco Malfoy became his friend. Acquaintance? Whatever he'd become. Placing it gently between the pages of his book, he headed down to the Common Room to read.

A small smile was fixed on his face, even as he fell asleep on the couch.

_**So where do we begin,  
and what else can we say?  
When the lines are all drawn,  
what should we do today?**_

**_  
There's a space beside us  
and there's miles between us,  
and all around us  
grows this shade of grey.  
Rain falling,  
hours crawling,  
all around this shade of grey...  
_**- A Pleasant Shade of Grey, Fate's Warning


	4. x

**Disclaimer:** Characters and whatnot belong to J.K. Rowling, and I bow down to her powers. The lyrics at the beginning belong to The Cure, and I am none of them. Nor am I any part of Nine Inch Nails, which is the group that owns the lyrics at the bottom of this fanfiction chapter.

**Author's Note:** We're sorry that it's taken us so long to update, it took Shannon (magickbeing) a bit longer to convert/beta then planned. Hopefully the next update won't take as long, but no promises. Also, we're looking for a more full-time beta to go through chapters of this after they've been converted into a readable format... if anyone's interested, please say so in your review. Please don't be discouraged if someone has already volunteered.

We apologise for any errors in this chapter, please bear with us as there may be more than usual.

Oh, and another reminder; this is pretty much our-- slashy--version of HBP. It might be less detailed, but if you've read it, you'll get it, and it may give some of the book away if you haven't.

.x.

**Out of This World**  
By SecondHand & MagickBeing  
.Chapter Four

**_And I know we have to go,  
I realise we only get to stay so long.._**  
- Out of This World, The Cure

Harry awoke the next Friday night—hot, sweaty and thoroughly annoyed with himself.

Was it impossible for him to actually sleep for more than two hours at a time? He glanced at the clock next to his bed on his night stand. It read 12:13 A.M. He groaned and kicked his covers off of his body.

"So bloody hot," he mumbled to himself.

"What?"

It was Ron, sleepily speaking to Harry in the darkness.

"Nothing, it's just hot," Harry replied, setting his feet on the ground next to his sneakers, whispering, "go back to sleep."

Harry hoped that the redhead was doing his normal talking in his sleep bit and that he would lay right back down.

"But Harry, I have to go to Potions, where we have to sit and listen to Slughorn's ugly mouth and endure Malfoy's ugly face," he slurred, clearly still sleeping.

"He's not ugly," Harry said, then cursed himself for speaking out loud.

But Ron was already back to sleep, snoring ever so lightly, which was really more of a deep breathing. Harry shook his head. He had gone five days without seeing the blond, really, and they'd only had one encounter since then, aside from potions, and it was because Ron had run into Crabbe accidentally and the two goons went off, leaving Draco and Harry to stage a fight. Harry wondered if people could tell that there wasn't as much anger in the words as there usually was. Sighing, he shoved his feet into his shoes and lifted a light wind breaker from the desk chair, along with his invisibility cloak. Now that he was awake, and it was to insufferably hot to sleep again—and Ron had decided to bring up Malfoy—Harry wanted air.

He silently slipped out of the room, cursing again as he realised he had forgotten to bring along his map. Oh well, no time now. He made his way slowly—too slowly, up to the Astronomy Tower, the cool air of the changing season hitting his face as he opened the heavy doors that lead outside. He walked over to the ledge, leaning his forehead against the cold stone surface, trying to push all thoughts away.

Draco slipped out of his dormitory with ease, with every intention of going to the Owlery. His mother had owled earlier that evening, wanting to know why he hadn't written. As it turned out, his father's trial was lasting longer then expected. Most people had thought it would be quick and clean; after all, there were mounds of evidence against his father this time; too much to buy. And yet, the trial had been going on for over a week and a half, which surprised many. Draco was sure that his mother was in pieces by now and had been unsurprised when he saw several small, dark spots on her letter. She had probably been crying. He knew that she had been doing a lot of that lately... after all, their family was being torn apart.

The contents of the letter had read the usual; she asked how he was doing, why he hadn't written, and when Quidditch would be starting. It was clear to Draco that, for the most part, she was trying to avoid writing about Lucius. Usually, Draco wouldn't have thought anything of it. He would have just set the letter aside and wrote his mother in the morning, but something inside of him, in his gut, was telling him that there was more, and to be on the safe side, Draco had soon found himself sitting in front of the fire preforming the revealing spell his father had taught him. As it turned out, there was more. She wanted to know if he had decided; she wrote that the time would be coming soon, and if he didn't answer, there were men that wouldn't be pleased. Of course, Draco knew who these men were. After that, he had promptly thrown the letter into the fire and had watched it shrivel and burn. For awhile, he had debated not answering. But he knew what he had to do, and that led him to where he was now—sneaking out of his dormitory, wand and parchment in hand, on the way to the Owlery.

Again, he was wearing entirely black, and for the most part, he blended into the shadows. He was relieved when he didn't find that blasted cat or her owner patrolling the halls. When Draco arrived to the Owlery, he was certain not to take too long. He promptly found his owl, tied his letter to the bird's leg, and hurried from sight. Instead of going back down to the Dungeons, however, Draco crept outside. He knew he wouldn't be able to get much sleep now; so much depended on his mother's reaction to his letter.

Stepping outside, Draco looked up at the cloudy sky. Not a star was in sight, making it incredibly dark, but he didn't light his wand in fear of someone seeing.

Harry lifted his head from the cool stone, the invisibility cloak still draped over his head, his fear of being caught out of bed after hours running deep. He couldn't afford detention right now. He had too many things that he was attempting to do, and he was finding that he hadn't enough time or energy to do most of it, and that too many thoughts were running through his head to sleep and actually catch up on his sleep at the same time. He supposed that he could always go to bed in a couple of hours and sleep a few hours later than most of the students usually did, seeing how it was Saturday, and that there weren't any classes, but he did have Quidditch try-outs the next day.

He groaned inwardly. He really should go to sleep so that he could function well enough to choose the new players wisely...

Sighing, he let his eyes scan over the brilliant view of Hogwarts' grounds. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, at least for Hogwarts. Everything was black, unlike last week when he had been outside and the sky was full of stars and rain clouds. Stepping away from the ledge, a small movement over by the lake caught his eye. Squinting and moving back towards the ledge, he could see that someone, who he recognised right away as Draco Malfoy, was making their way to the lake. Cocking his head, he noted that the person was dressed head to toe black, perhaps to blend in with the darkness. He made a mental note to remind Malfoy that he had hair the colour of snow, which stood out very much when trying to be sneaky in the middle of the night.

He didn't linger, though he wanted to stay and see what the blond would do, knowing that even if Draco were to look up, he wouldn't see Harry. But Harry wanted to stop thinking about the other boy, it only confused his mind more. So he slowly and silently made his way back to bed, opting to read his Potions book by candle light for awhile.

Draco walked slowly toward the lake; ever since running into Harry there, it had become the usual place for him to think at. He sat near the edge of the shore, legs outstretched, and picked up a stone as he had before, a sense of familiarity coming to him. He tossed it up into the air for good measure, catching it with ease, and tried making his mind think about something other then his mother, or his father for that matter. After a few uncomfortable moments of trying to force his thoughts, but not succeeding, Draco tossed the rock into the water, small, tiny waves lapping at the shore. A few bubbles appeared near the centre of the lake, signifying the Giant Squid's movement as the stone sunk downward, but other on, it remained still. Draco laid back, crossing his arms beneath his head, and stared up at the sky. Quidditch try-outs would be next Sunday for Slytherin and Draco was still unsure of whether or not he was going to play, though he knew he would have to make up his mind soon. Thinking of choices, Draco's mind wandered back to his parents. He scowled, sitting up and hurrying to his feet.

If he was going to think about things he didn't want to anyway, he might as well do it in the familiarity of his own warm bed.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

The next day proved to be a great day for Quidditch try-outs; a light breeze and no rain.

Harry pushed his way through try-outs, having picked the best team he could possibly get given the students trying out. Afterwards he found himself talking lightly with Ginny Weasley, smiling and laughing more than he had in a long time. He found himself thinking to himself, _she's beautiful_. The way her red hair reminded him of the Autumn leaves, and her attitude reminded him of a less know it all Hermione; determined to get what she wants and bitchy to the end, he found himself admiring her. But she was with Dean... big no no. He couldn't mess around with he friend's girlfriend, even if him and Dean weren't the greatest of friends.

He bit his lip as she said goodbye and bravely placed a light kiss on her cheek, sending promises of a Hogsmeade trip with each other sometime—even though she had politely told him that she was with Dean and that she would be going with him.

He found himself, at twilight, sitting against the trunk of an old tree just to the side of the Lake, right next to the Forbidden Forest.

_Great, another thing to add to my list, _he thought to himself, letting his head fall against the wood.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

After dinner, Draco shut himself in the canopy of his bed, scowling.

Who did Pansy think she was, trying to maul him like that? He could still feel her hands pressed against his body, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered 'sweet nothings' to him, and he suppressed a shudder. Withdrawing his wand, he cast a non disturbance charm on his bed and after that, a silencing charm, causing the green curtains to ripple and fold as the magic weaved itself into the fabric.

Leaning his back against the headboard, Draco pulled his knees near his chest, resting his arms on them. Taking a few, calm, deep breaths, Draco resisted the urge to vomit. Granted, dinner hadn't been the best, but he doubted it would taste any better coming back up. Forcing himself to swallow the lump forming in his throat, Draco closed his eyes, his head leaning backwards. He tried resisting his thoughts of his parents, and soon, he heard the dormitory door open and someone step in. Softly, Blaise called his name, but Draco ignored him. He sighed, calmly telling Draco that Pansy was looking for him. Draco grimaced and said nothing. Soon, the other Slytherin left, Draco's thoughts returning with a vengeance. Silently seething, Draco refused to speak to any of his room mates for the rest of the night as they retired to their beds, talking softly amongst themselves. He only stirred when the soft chattering had gotten on his nerves and he decided to go for a walk. At this decision part of him brightened, remembering that Harry would probably be out and about.

Draco tried to ignore that part, as he slipped a pair of boots on and stepped from the safety of his bed, ignoring the curious gazes from his room mates.

They knew better then to ask.

When Draco stepped outside, a brisk wind hit his face and unknowingly, his eyes scanned the horizon. There were a few students milling about, but none that should bother him. Walking down the cement steps, Draco walked towards the farthest tree from other students. It wasn't very late, so there was no point of Draco heading toward the Quidditch Pitch yet. And even if it hadn't been, there were too many students wandering across the grounds.

Leaning up against the old, gnarled oak, Draco crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze wandered to the sky, where an owl flew, no doubt to the Owlery. Thinking of that, Draco's stomach turned. He had yet to get a reply from his mother. She was no doubt furious. He scowled at the thought; as if she had a right to be. She had to know how much they were asking from her only son, didn't she? Lowering his eyes, Draco watched someone he barely recognized to be from Gryffindor head toward the castle, and then spotted a familiar head of dark hair. His scowl twisted into a smirk at the boy, who looked to be sleeping, and he remembered something interesting he had seen whilst walking past the Quidditch Pitch earlier that day.

The tree's bark dug through his shirt as he slid to the ground, legs outstretched in front of him as he sat, deep in thought. He waited for the remaining students to enter the castle, sending a glare or two to anyone that was brave enough to near him. The sky was much darker now and Draco briefly wondered how long he had been sitting there thinking.

Lifting himself from the ground, his eyes scanned the grounds again to make sure that no one was left out; except for a certain Gryffindor that was still leaning against a tree. Smirking, Draco made his way over to Harry, sending a weary glance to the castle. As he neared Harry, he stood there for a short while, studying him. His hair was as messy as usual, a few dark strands splayed across his forehead, and his glasses were annoyingly crooked but he looked almost peaceful. Gently, Draco shifted his weight and toed Harry's leg with the tip of his boot.

Harry began to stir, and smirking, Draco murmured, "Morning, Sunshine."

Harry could hear the faint murmur of students and feel a few of the leaves fluttering around him, softly hitting his face from time to time—which was probably what pushed him into a deeper sleep. His body rocked lightly and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut when one of his straggling Gryffindor friends nudged him awake gently, and murmured something softly. He slipped his green eyes open, trying to focus on what friend had woke him up, and was oddly surprised to find that it was no Gryffindor at all.

Pushing his glasses back up on his nose, he looked around. The twilight had turned to darkness and there wasn't another soul in sight, aside from Malfoy.

_Nice to know that my friends are looking out for me,_ he thought dryly, letting off a yawn and stretching a bit, a small, sleepy smile on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was more bashful sounding than it had been when he was talking to Ginny earlier.

"Hi."

He scooted up, feeling a little more than slightly embarrassed by the Slytherin finding him asleep.

Draco looked down at the waking Gryffindor with a smirk. Harry was surprisingly quiet when he woke, his voice raspy with grogginess, and the small smile on his lips was priceless.

"How long have you been there?" Harry asked, still feeling a bit fuzzy from his little nap.

"And do you know how long I've been out?"

Harry brought his knees up to his chest, his lip in between his teeth again; two of his biggest nervous habits, and yet there was nothing to be nervous about. It wasn't as if he had been drooling or anything. His eyes went wide for a moment and his hand flew to his face, checking to see if it were dry.

_All clear. Good,_ he thought to himself.

Again, he looked up bashfully at the other boy. "Care to sit?"

Draco's smirk only grew at the Gryffindor's hasty movements. Lifting an eyebrow, he nodded, saying, "Only for a few minutes."

He paused, his eyes meeting Harry's, "And, at least an hour and a half, or so."

And then, with one, languid movement, Draco was on the ground beside Harry, their shoulders brushing as leaned back on his arms.

Harry nodded; he couldn't believe that he had been out for that long.

"I was sort of surprised one of your house mates didn't wake you; Gryffindor loyalty and all that. There was a dark haired boy that looked like he was going to.." said Draco, trailing off, trying to think of the boy's name. Slowly, he glanced at Harry and said, "Derek?"

Harry licked his lips, getting the gritty feeling of sleeping with his mouth open off. He cocked his head to the side, pondering who could have been about to wake him up. Dark haired. Seamus was light brown, so it wasn't him. Ah, Dean had dark hair—it could have been him.

"Dean?" he asked, as if it really mattered. "Heh, they all just left me there, I suppose I'd have been caught out here 'round eleven when Filch and his ugly arsed cat did their rounds, if you hadn't have came to wake me up."

Draco watched Harry in silence as he spoke, only nodding when he had said Dean. That was the boy's name; he knew it had started with a _d_.

Harry took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes, sitting his glasses on his knee, balancing them there so he could run both of his hands through his hair, his shoulders and neck popping in the process.

He let out a small sighing sound, the popping feeling way too good.

Draco shifted his gaze, staring out at the sky. It was still cloudy. He glanced at Harry at the sound of his neck popping, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I'm a bit of a day sleeper, I don't sleep much at night." Harry informed the blond, as if he needed to know.

Draco smiled slightly at that. In all honesty, he would have imagined Harry as a morning person, if he had ever really thought about it. Draco himself, though, knew what Harry was talking about. It was just easier to think at night, away from the chatter of people.

Harry smirked suddenly, placing his glasses back on his face. "Speaking of which, I'm not the only one. You know, wondering around at night in black clothes, it's a good idea. If you have hair like mine. You, however, need to wear a hat..."

Draco's grin widened a bit and he shrugged.

"Haven't got caught yet.. besides; me, wear a hat?"

He feigned an incredulous look, surveying Harry's face. He silently asked himself when he had gotten to friendly with the Gryffindor, joking with him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which it wasn't. His expression melted and he tried blocking out his father's voice in his head, saying, "You saw me? I didn't think there was anyone else out here.."

Harry chuckled lightly, nodding at Malfoy, finding it oddly amusing that he didn't find it odd that Harry had managed to see him.

"I was up in the Astronomy tower, the air was nice, so I figured, why not?" he smirked, wiggling against the tree to rid himself of an itch that seemed to spread throughout his whole damn back. Draco watched this, Harry bumping into him, and he couldn't help but snicker at the Gryffindor.

"I have my ways of getting around without being caught," he stated, as if the blond didn't already know about his invisibility tricks. He remembered third year when he had scared the shit out of the Slytherins when they had been messing with Ron and Hermione at the Shrieking Shack. It was then that he thought _that was before Sirius died, _causing Harry's fond smile to falter, leaving him with a fake version of it.

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly at this statement, clearly remembering the day at the Shrieking Shack himself.

Harry cleared his throat, hoping his new fr—Malfoy, hadn't seen it, and asked, "So, what brought you out to the lake at ten 'till one?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Draco's face melted into it's usual apathetic mask, and he watched Harry's face closely as his expression flickered. He said nothing though, instead turning back to stare at the grass in front of him and gave a small shrug, unsure of whether or not he should tell Harry. Slowly, he said, "Just doing some errands."

He tossed a glance in Harry's direction, trying to ignore the curious look Harry was giving him.

Harry's senses perked. What could the blond be doing that late at night?

He apparently had to have been doing more than just going out for a stroll, or he would have said so. Instantly his old ways of thinking kicked back in. He wanted to jump and ask what he was doing; make the boy tell him. So what if Malfoy wasn't his father? He was close; he was influenced by him, you could tell just by looking at him. What if Malfoy were off doing something for him? But then, what if he wasn't? He bit his lip and sighed. If he was going to be the other's friend, he had to give him time. Maybe sometime, if Malfoy wanted to, he would tell Harry—on his own. Pushing down the urge to beg for answers, though it was killing him, he said.

"Get everything done?"

Draco was relieved that Harry didn't push him any further, though he could tell by the glint in his eyes, and the way his body visibly tensed, that he wanted to. He sighed, turning back to Harry. He knew the Gryffindor would have problems trusting him, and honestly, Draco would have been stupid to expect anything else. He knew he was being stupid, and maybe selfish as it was, sitting here and talking to Harry as if it weren't a big deal, because it was. It was a very big deal, and if his parents found out, he didn't know what he would do. But he had to talk to him, he had to find out if the choice his family was pushing him to make was the right one.

Giving Harry a soft, almost sad smile, Draco said, "Yeah. I did.."

Harry nodded, thinking nothing of the simple yeah. He let his head fall back against the tree, his eyes slip closed and he took another deep sigh, the fresh start of Autumn air filling his nose and making some of his old smile appear.

And suddenly, unsure of why he was about to say this, Draco said, "I'm sorry."

Harry tried to stop himself, but his eyes flew open, his head snapped up and his mouth dropped open.

"What?"

Malfoy was apologising? _What the hell for? _He asked himself.

It was a little late to be apologising for all of the things they had said in the past, so why even bother? He shook his head, clearing the shock out, Draco watching his reaction with a smirk.

"What for?" Harry asked, rephrasing his earlier outburst.

He licked his lips which had become dry from breathing so hard.

"I mean, you didn't do anything," he said, calming down; he didn't want to offend the other.

Draco watched Harry's reaction with a smirk. Hell, he had even surprised himself with that one; Malfoy's didn't apologise for things as petty as that—there were just some things that he couldn't tell people, what with the Malfoy name, and they were to accept that. He tried not to think of that too much, his smirk melting into a small smile, and lifted a shoulder slightly in a sort of shrug.

"I don't know. For not being able to tell you, I guess."

Silently, he added, _I don't know why, but it feels weird keeping secrets. _

He stared at Harry for a short while, before the urge to break the silence became overwhelming. He turned away, wishing that he wasn't so bad at small talk with Harry. Well, small talk that didn't involve jabbing, barbaric insults, that is.

Harry felt the urge to gawk and ask for an explanation. Since when did it matter that he couldn't tell Harry something that was none of his business? But he didn't. He simply cocked his head to the side, giving the blond a small smile and tried to understand. It was starting to become unreal. They were actually, well, friends. Enemies didn't apologise for small things such as that. He sighed lightly and bit his lip again. He was going out on the limb here, assuming things that he wasn't one hundred percent sure of yet, but he found himself wanting to try...

"You don't have to be... I'm sure, if you ever feel you need to, you'll tell me."

It sounded like something he would say to Ron. He found his cheeks flushing, so he looked down, pretending to be intrigued by the hems of his robes.

At the sound of Harry's voice, Draco turned, watching his cheeks change shades.

_How touching. _

His lips twisted into a small smirk, and he softly said, "Thanks."

He didn't know why he was suddenly so comfortable with Harry, but for some reason it didn't bother him as much as he knew it should. The sincereness behind Harry's words made him have the urge to blush himself, but he knew he didn't, or wouldn't. Just another lesson taught by his father. Draco sighed, eyeing the Gryffindor with a blank face.

"So.." he trailed off, an image from earlier that day flashing in his mind in his haste to take his thoughts from his father. He smirked, saying suddenly, "Do you blush like that with that Weasel girl?"

_Why did you have to get all..._ Harry was thinking to himself as the blond muttered a small thanks, Harry's cheeks growing ever more red. _And why do you have to blush as if he'd just said he saw you snogging in the Astronomy Tower after hours?_ He was getting that familiar annoyed feeling with himself again. However, his thoughts were quickly interrupted when Draco brought up Ginny.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyes wide, looking right into Malfoy's very stormy orbs. I_ntriguing colour of eye; it's like a cloudy evening with stars just barely spotting the sky, little white flecks..._ he thought, cocking his head to the side slightly.

_Ginny_.

He quickly looked away, shaking the image from his mind.

"What do you mean?"

Draco's smirk had grown at Harry's reaction. He had to admit, making Harry blush had it's perks to it.

Draco met Harry's gaze with his own, his smirk melting into a smile.

"I was walking by the Quidditch Pitch earlier.." said Draco, the only explanation he felt he had the need to give, inwardly enjoying making Harry squirm and blush; it was cute—innocent like. And then, Draco broke the eye contact, wondering what the hell was wrong with him now. If it wasn't one thing with him, it was another, wasn't it? He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments before looking back at the Gryffindor, forcing his smirk to return.

Harry scowled at being spotted.

"You saw me talking to her?" he asked, knowing it was a dumb question.

Draco gave Harry an incredulous look at this, wondering, _is that not just what I said?_

"It's nothing really, she's like my sister... well, sort of," continued Harry.

It was true, to; she had been some what of a sister since he had saved her, but now, now it was a bit different. He wondered what would lead Malfoy to think that he liked her. Ah, the kiss on the cheek, maybe. He thought of Hermione as a sister and he didn't go around kissing her on the cheek. He sighed.

"It's not like you've never fancied someone before, Malfoy," he stated, nodding in a as a matter of a fact way, his arms crossing over his chest.

Draco's smirk grew and he found himself snickering.

"Of course I have, Potter," he replied, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Harry just nodded, narrowing his eyes at Draco's laughter. Draco shifted his gaze, knowing that it was rude to laugh at the other and resisted the urge to mumble another apology as he calmed himself.

_What in the hell has gotten into me tonight? Do I even know _why _I'm laughing? _

Draco looked back at Harry, smiling slightly, and repeated, "Of course I have."

"Funny eh?" Harry started, scooting further away from the other boy. Draco watched this, his smile melting a bit; for once, he hadn't been trying to offend the Gryffindor. He shook his head slowly. It wasn't funny, and he regretted laughing.

"I don't know if I really like her," Harry started again, sighing. "I mean, I do. But it just happened so fast. It was like, woah, all of the sudden Ginny's not ten years old and writing silly little poems about me."

He paused, then saying, "You don't care, do you?"

He didn't know why he felt the need to talk to Draco, he just did, and what he was saying was true. While he did like Ginny, he didn't know where it had come from. She was beautiful and sweet and all, but what if he just wanted someone?

He shook his head, opting to keep that to himself.

Draco smiled slightly. Even though Harry had just been saying he wasn't sure of himself, Draco could see that some place inside of him, he was. The sound of Harry's voice dragged him back to what the Gryffindor was saying.

"I mean, she's beautiful. I don't care how much you hate her family, you know she is," Harry said, nodding.

Draco smirked a bit, wondering if Harry could keep a secret. Still smirking, he made a noise of agreement.

He was unsure of whether or not he should voice the fact that he thought he might prefer boys.

Harry cocked his head to the side his eyes taking in the blond's secretive smirk. He shrugged, trying not to think too much of it. He moved his body, rolling over onto his stomach so that he was laying flat out, and then back over so that he was laying on his back, his head propped up on his hands, his eyes scanning the blackish grey sky. A few stars were sprinkled over the stretch of it.

_Like Malfoy's eyes,_ Harry thought to himself, inwardly cringing. He had never paid much attention, he had always just thought the blond's eyes were simply grey... and thinking of blond, Draco's hair wasn't really blond; it was white, almost sliver; it matched the moon.

He stiffened.

He never did this with Ron, the only comparison Harry had ever made about him was that he had hair like fire... friends, guy friends didn't sit and think of stuff like this.

He shrugged it off and looked down at the Muggle watch on his wrist—only eight thirty; they still had at least an hour before they would be punished for being outside... or an hour for fellow classmates to find them outside talking. He looked around, he _would _have to be careful, but suddenly the idea of being caught with Draco Malfoy didn't bother him so much. _Who cared? They could piss off, _he thought, nodding.

Harry looked up, his eyes resting on the other boy.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his mind forcing the thoughts of Malfoy's eyes out of it.

Draco had watched Harry lay down, shifting a bit where he was sitting at the same time, and leaning against the tree where the Gryffindor had once been. He watched Harry stare up at the sky, and his smirk shifted into a smile. He wondered if the Gryffindor knew how attractive he was; his eyes glittering as he stared at the clouds, a dim light cast over his slightly tanned complexion, outlining his lithe form, with robes sprawled out around him. Draco had the sudden urge to reach out and run his hands through his messy hair, wondering how it would feel beneath his fingers. He even let himself imagine how Harry would look without that wiry framed nuisance on his face before he realised what precisely he was imagining, which wiped the smile right off of his face.

As Harry turned to him, he could feel his cheeks take on a light flush; something which he was almost positive had never happened. At least not in recent years and at least not from embarrassment.

He forced himself to meet Harry's gaze.

Somehow, without stuttering, he managed to say, "Nothing."

And at that precise moment all he wanted to do was bury his head in the ground; something incredibly unMalfoyish. But then, Draco had been doing a lot of unMalfoyish things lately.

Harry smirked lightly, a soft chuckle rippling through his body, his stomach muscles contracting slightly.

"Sure you are," he said, arching a dark eyebrow, his fingers, which were still behind his head, brushing through the back of his hair. He let the silence file in for a moment, just enjoying the feel of the wind on his face and the pretty sights around him.

Draco couldn't stop it as a slight smile flickered across his face at the sound of Harry's laughter, and he watched in silence as Harry let the breeze caress his face. And again, the urge to touch the Gryffindor was almost impossible to resist. Almost.

It was then that Harry remembered something that he had once heard.

"Are you and Pansy, you know, together?" he asked lightly, not knowing how the blond would react to making a relationship public. "People are talking, ever since you took her to the Yule Ball in fourth year."

He paused and yawned softly, surprised that he was so tired. Could have been from the whole two and a half hours of sleep or so... but he wasn't counting.

"I know that was a while back... but, you know."

He was stumbling over his words—not good.

The abruptness of Harry's next question pulled Draco from his rather dirty thoughts and he looked at the other with lifted eyebrows, repeating the question in a slightly louder tone, "I... Pansy? Gods no." This earned a curious look from Harry and Draco continued, lowering his voice, "Our parents wanted us to go to the Yule Ball together. It was an arranged coupling; a pureblood tradition.."

Harry chuckled more, his smile showing, clearly, a set of white teeth. His aunt and uncle may not have taken much care of him. But he knew how to take care of himself. Unlike Dudley, who was a spoiled, ugly, pig of a boy. Much worse than Malfoy had probably ever been. He wondered what Malfoy was like as a child. Was he childish and whiny, or did he have to do things 'The Malfoy Way.' at age 5...

"You really don't like her, eh?" he asked, finding this even more amusing. "People talk, they swear that they can hear you snogging and shagging like rabbits every night in the Room of Requirement. Though I don't know how they'd hear you snog, let alone hear you in that room..." He pondered out loud.

Draco grinned a bit, as Harry did so, and then blanched at what he next said. His grin disappeared and he shook his head, "With Pansy? No," looking at Harry, he pulled a face, still shaking his head and said, "do you believe everything you hear?"

This, was the reason he never let his house mates tell him the rumours that went around about himself. Some things, he was better off not knowing. Like this. He suppressed a shiver, calming down as his eyes met Harry's. For some reason, he had the sudden urge to be honest; after all, Potter was a ruddy Gryffindor, he could keep a secret—all of that bloody loyalty to his friends and whatnot.

...but were him and Draco actually friends? Draco found he didn't quite have an answer to that one, at least not one he was sure of or completely fine with admitting, so he logically argued that even if Harry wanted to tell something Draco told him in confidence, who would believe him? After all, to the rest of the world, Harry and Draco were rivals.

Harry snickered, playfully, batting his lashes. "No; I think it was Broudstroul that said it. I'm not one for gossip..." he let out a soft snort.

Draco lifted an eyebrow as Harry playfully batted his eyelashes at him and he made a silent note to himself to talk to Broudstroul later. He watched as Harry changed positions and he had to drag his eyes away from Harry's lithe form, set on saying what he needed to.

"Not really, anyway," Harry continued.

He rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, although this proved hard, as they sunk into the soft ground a bit. He cringed, but was brought from his task as the light haired boy spoke.

Choosing his words carefully, and cryptically, Draco said, "Besides, I don't think she has the right parts for what I'm starting to think I want.."

"You what?" Harry asked. Of course he knew, he wasn't that daft.

"You mean, you're..." his eyes went wide, and he looked at the other thoroughly intrigued.

"How do you know? I mean. Oh... " he didn't know what to ask, his words getting all jumbled. He looked up, eyes pleading, as if he were hoping the blond would help him.

The look Harry was giving him was priceless and Draco smirked as he floundered about for words. Finally, the Slytherin took pity on him and said, "I think I am... I don't know. I just.. find men more appealing then women," he paused, forcing his gaze away from Harry as he fought the blush he was sure was creeping onto his cheeks, "Besides. I think anyone that had Pansy pounce on them in dark corridors every which way, would probably feel the same way."

Harry's mouth was frozen in place, and he knew now that he was gawking.

He swallowed.

"I never thought of that possibility. I mean, for anybody. Well, I mean, I've heard of it... just didn't think that it happened to teens," he blushed.

"Shows how smart and with it I am."

He bit his lip, wanting to ask more question but not wanting to offend the other boy. He moved to sit up cross legged in front of his companion, his eyes sweeping over the other's form.

Harry was definitely gawking, as Draco could plainly see out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment he regretted telling him. No one else knew, and he didn't know what had possessed him to tell Harry. But then Harry began talking, and the regret washed away. This moment was to priceless not to enjoy. Silently, he added making Harry stutter to the list of things he liked watching the Gryffindor do; such as blushing. Draco watched him in silence as he moved to sit in front of of him, cross legged, and looked at him with bright eyes.

"Mm, so..." he squirmed a bit, "have you ever, you know, done anything?"

He felt like a giggly teenage third year girl, speaking of her first hand holding experience.

Draco lifted an eyebrow at the question and smirked.

"Why, Potter, are you asking for all of the dirty details?" he tisked, still smirking, "I had no idea you were so curious."

And again, the look Draco received was priceless.

Harry actually rolled his eyes.

"Don't be perverted. It's not like that..." he paused—yep, definitely a teenage girl. He cringed.

"I mean, I'm only curious because it's never crossed my mind. I've always thought that girls went with boys, and all. I had a, well, very strict aunt and uncle. Once Dudley brought home this magazine and it had two girls snogging... Aunt Petunia flipped out."

He bit his lip; he knew he sounded like a child, fascinated by something.

Draco listened to Harry talk with surprising attentiveness. He was fascinated as Harry began talking about his Aunt and Uncle. Of course, he had known that Harry lived with Muggles, but he hadn't heard any names. Apparently it wasn't something he liked to talk about much.

"I'm asking because I wanted to know how you know? Have you done anything to know? Or are you simply attracted to males?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side, his hand fiddling lightly in his lap. He was surely going to chew a hole through his bottom lip if he didn't stop chewing at it.

Draco tilted his head to the side with interest, as Harry finished his questions, and watched as he chewed on his lip. Draco was quick to move his gaze away from the Gryffindor's mouth, stopping those thoughts before they even started. Softly, he admitted, "I haven't really done anything. Crabbe tried kissing me when he was sleepwalking once, but that's a memory I'd prefer not to relive," he paused, shuddering at the mere thought, and continued, "it's more or less just an attraction.." he trailed off, his eyes focusing on Harry's. "A very _strong _attraction."

Harry outwardly cringed at the thought of Crabbe trying to kiss Malfoy.

"Oh, no," he said, not able to come up with anything else.

"I'm so sorry. I'd have 'Scorgified' my mouth and body about fifty times just to get the thought off of me," he said, being totally serious. He thought about the rest, cocking his head to the other side. Even Harry could admit when blokes looked alright, but that didn't make him a ponce in any fashion. He knew that there was much more than just finding someone attractive when it came to being with them. While he could tell a male that they looked alright, he couldn't imagine having a full snog session with one.

"I can admit when a bloke is alright," he voiced out loud, "I just can't imagine what it would feel like to kiss another male... granted I've kissed one girl, and it wasn't good at all... but, let alone do... that other stuff. Can you... actually?" he felt shivers rise over his arms, and he bit his lip again. He sighed, taking in the unique look of the Slytherin and those damn eyes.

"Why haven't you gotten someone, I mean, you're attractive enough," he said, swallowing and smirking at the word attractive.

Draco smiled lightly at Harry's response to the Crabbe-kissing story, which changed into a smirk as he said he couldn't imagine doing other _stuff _with another bloke. He thought it was sort of adorable the way Harry was acting so innocent and naive about this new information, and for once he didn't try to resist that train of thought. Draco was pulled from those thoughts, however, when Harry paid him a compliment.

Lifting an eyebrow, Draco smirked again.

"First of all, if I'm willing to admit that I'm probably gay, then yes, I can probably imagine doing other _stuff _with another bloke. Second of all, I haven't really wanted _anyone.._" he trailed off, part of him silently adding, _until now, _and he inwardly cursed that part. And then, he smirked again, a devious thought forming in his mind, a thought that Draco hoped would make Harry blush.

Repeating what he had said the other night, Draco said, "Third of all, you aren't too bad yourself."

Harry's cheeks flushed red at the compliment and his lips twitched into a small smile.

"Has that been a on going thing, or is it just slapping you in the face? 'Cause I could swear that four months ago, I was ugly and deformed," he chuckled. "I've not changed much since the end of fifth year..."

It was after that that Harry thought of what Draco had said; the answers were pretty apparent. Of course he could imagine it, but how... why would he want some blokes cock up his arse? He felt like asking the other that, but found it too lewd, which he found funny because if he were with Ron, he would have just said it—been as lewd as possible and not thought a thing about it. It was the same with his other dorm mates.

"I just can't imagine another bloke ... never mind," he said.

Draco, however, could imagine-- where that sentence was going. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out, and yet he chose not to answer. Instead, Draco gave Harry a small grin as his cheeks turned into a lovely shade of red. Softly, he replied to Harry's original comment, saying, "Both. Just.. took me awhile to notice. And I'd say you've changed.. I mean, you're not hexing me yet."

The second part he said in a rush, as if to cover up the first sentence, which he regretted saying. He hadn't even admitted that part to himself _silently, _why did he to Harry aloud? He had to admit, though, it felt good to say some of these things.

Harry smiled fully at the little blushes that graced Draco's ivory coloured cheeks. It was... cute and sweet, in a way, to see the Slytherin blushing, yet odd. Harry was thoroughly enjoying himself, but one small thought nagged at the back of his mind. _Don't get used to it. _

_Malfoy probably just needs a friend right now, and you just happened to be here. Sooner or later, Mother and Father will get to him. And he'll crush you..._

Harry kept his smile though, trying not to let the darkening thoughts taint his mood. _I'll just have to remember not to get _that _close._ He tilted his head to the side.

Draco glanced down at his hands as Harry stared. For a moment he was afraid that the Gryffindor had heard the first part of his sentence, and he resisted the urge to blush again. When Harry spoke, however, his suspicions were proved wrong. Either that, or if the Gryffindor had heard, he was pointedly ignoring it. Draco looked up as he spoke.

"I've not tried to hex you, because you've been on your best, or worse, by the eyes of some peoples, behaviours around me. You've not started a fight with us yet... Crabbe and Goyle seem to bring those on, you just put input in," Harry stated, the possibility that Draco was talking about his looks going right over his head.

"But really, we might want to get into it about something soon, people might start to talk," he smirked, turning and stretching his legs out in front of him, his right side to Draco. He lifted his arm, looking at the clock again, Draco watching as he did this, noticing how the face of the watch had a strange glow to it. He hadn't noticed the device until now, probably because Harry hadn't checked on it until then... and if he had, Draco hadn't noticed.

It was 9:00 PM according to Harry's watch... he had thirty minutes left. Time seemed to fly by when he talked to Malfoy; it made most of his bad thoughts slip away. He honestly could have sat out there all night long.

"I've got to go in, in about thirty minutes. I've got to see Dumbledore tonight..." Harry trailed off. He didn't need to say anything else about it, he knew that.

This meeting had become a bit awkward for Harry, but not so much that he wanted to leave... not yet anyway. He had just found out that day that Draco Malfoy was not only becoming his friend, but that he was gay and that the other may actually find him attractive and perhaps had always found him attractive. And the surprising thing was, Harry didn't mind at all. In fact, it made the other seem more interesting...

Little did Harry know, that it was becoming awkward for Draco, to. Not in the same sense, but awkward nonetheless. He had barely began acting civil to Harry, and all of a sudden he was pouring out his inner most secrets? Not good. He'd have to distance himself, and he knew it. He wanted Harry to think of him as a friend, and he wanted to think of Harry as one in

return. But friends, Draco was sure, hurt. They were a weakness, and if there was one thing Draco needed, it was another weakness. Sighing, he glanced back at Harry, eyeing the Gryffindor slowly. Why did things have to be so complicated? _Because you're a Malfoy. _

Draco lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing, only nodding at Harry's statement. Harry would tell him why he needed to see Dumbledore if wanted to. And he doubted he wanted to.

"Alright," he said carefully, "what time is it?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, taking in the boy in front of him again. _Be careful_ flashed through Harry's mind once more, but he shook the thought away.

"Nine," he said slowly, "maybe a little after now."

He smiled, trying to lighten his mood up a bit.

"Have you kissed a girl before? I mean, really, not just non-consensually?" he asked, not wanting to talk about leaving just yet. He was dreading his new task with Dumbledore.

Draco let his eyes slip shut for a moment before Harry's question registered and he opened his eyes, allowing the all-to-common smirk to light his face again. _Bloody Gryffindor curiosity._

"Have you _seen _the girls in Slytherin house?" he teased.

Harry smirked.

"That bad huh?" he shook his head, sighing lightly and continuing, "Pansy's cute..."

Draco only stared at Harry, continuing to do so as Harry stood, stretching his legs out and listening to the _pop_s that followed. Having no intentions of leaving just yet, but instead walking, Harry slowly reached his hand down to Draco, offering to help him up.

Dracco lifted an eyebrow at this, his gaze switching from Harry's hand to his face.

"Not ready to leave yet, I just wanted to walk..." he stated, looking around to see that most of the remaining students were up at the castle, deep into a sort of Wizard game on the ground. They obviously hadn't been paying attention—if they had been, Harry was sure he would have heard the surprised yelling, or at the very least, experienced the gawking he had had to endure on the train.

"What do you say?" he asked, his hand still outstretched. Suddenly, he was taken back to first year when the cheeky blond went about the wrong way of trying to get Harry to be his friend. If he had done it this way, Harry would have been fine with it...

Slowly, Draco took Harry's hand, the other arm beneath him, helping to lift himself up. He was easily switched into the kneeling position and was soon standing. Giving Harry a small smile, he let go of the other's hand, crossing his arms over his chest and looked at Harry beneath a few strands of hair spilling down his forehead. The smile shifted into a smirk as he remembered what they were saying before, and said, incredulous, "Pansy? Cute? Are we talking about pug-faced Pansy, here?"

Harry chuckled, leaning down to pick up his brook and quickly murmuring the returning spell under his breath.

"Well, yeah, cute like a pug-nosed puppy... you know, scratch her head, she does tricks? And slobbers from what you say... how bad was she and what did she do to you?" Harry asked, arching his eyebrow lightly, his lips following in a half smirk.

Draco looked at the ground in thought, nodding slightly.

"I guess you could call Pansy cute, in an ugly-cute way."

He silently watched Harry's broom fly off toward the broom shed and then turned his gaze back to Harry, taking a step forward, silently saying, _you said you wanted to walk... _and then, after a moment's consideration, he answered Harry. He knew he would have to distance himself, or at least stop getting so close so quickly, but he could worry about that tomorrow; tonight, he was planning on being selfish—he needed someone to talk to and Harry, while cautious, generally seemed more than willing.

"She pinned me against a wall, pressed her body against mine, and trailed rather wet, sloppy kisses across my face in an attempt to get me to hold still."

He gave Harry a pointed look, "In other words, pretty bad."

Harry shook his head and smirked, turning to walk toward the Quidditch Pitch, pausing for a moment to let the light haired boy catch up with him.

"She tried to rape you!"

Draco smirked in reply, shifting his gaze to the ground in front of them as they walked, tossing a wary look to the castle every now and then.

"My first and only kiss wasn't the greatest—wet and depressing," Harry continued, nodding and wincing at the memory of kissing Cho. "I'm hoping if things go alright with Ginny, it won't be so horrible, he added, looking over at Draco out of the corner of his eye.

Draco smiled slightly at the comment about the Weasely girl, though he chose not to let Harry see, turning away to look at the castle at that precise moment. Harry had it bad. Wiping the smile off of his face, he turned back to look at Harry and said, "I'm sure you'll do fine. Who was your first?"

"My first kiss was Cho Chang. It was Christmas time and she caught me under the Mistletoe. I was scared, and she started to cry..." he paused and bit his lip.

"Over Cedric," he finished, saying the name firmly; determined not to get all mushy and sad over it in front of the other boy. He wasn't even sure that Malfoy knew all that happened—if he wanted to know, all he had to do was ask and Harry would tell. "It wasn't the greatest, and after that, Cho and I stopped talking. I mean, we're civil, just not really friends." he nodded, cocking his head to the side. "I don't even know why I liked her..." he frowned, thinking about the pretty brunette.

"Pretty enough, just to... meh. I don't know..." he started to talk about Ginny, but stopped, he was sure the other was sick of hearing about it.

Draco listened to Harry in silence, tilting his head to the side slightly, and giving Harry a side glance. He had to imagine how low of a blow that would be; to have the person you had fancied kiss you, only to find out she wasn't really interested at all, and was carrying a ton of baggage. He lifted an eyebrow at the mention of Cedric's name, but still remained silent, reliving the memory of Harry being surrounded by people, a limp body in his arms.. he looked back down at the ground, saying, "So, more or less, you were thinking with your..." he trailed off, smirking, and spared the Gryffindor another glance, continuing with, "instead of your head?"

Harry looked back up at the blond, pondering. It actually wasn't that. It wasn't that at all. He had liked her, but maybe just because she was there, and cute.

"No, it wasn't that..." he blushed. "I haven't really ever thought with... that..." he sighed. He had never really been sexually attracted to a person. It was a bit pathetic; when he masturbated it was simply to cure frustration and to relieve stress. He had never thought about a person, just wanked, thought it felt alright, and was done with it. But Ron and Seamus swore that it was much better when you thought about someone. Harry had tried to think about someone—just every time he did, he either felt bad or stupid.

Draco shook his head with feigned sadness, some hair falling into his eyes, and he looked at Harry with a look of slight disgust.

"Gods, Potter, you really are a _saint, _aren't you?" his look of disgust shifted into a smirk and his eyes met Harry's, "Well, we'll just have to change that, now won't we?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"Saint? That's what the people call me..." he grinned, his grin fading as quickly as it came. "What do you mean, 'we'll just have to change that?'" he asked, hoping that the light haired boy had gotten the fact that he was straight and that he only thought that the other boy was attractive, which didn't mean that he was going to pounce on him. _Shut up, Potter. You're thinking about this the wrong way—one would think you were in denial. And how do you know you're not gay? You've never kissed a girl properly to know for sure, _Harry's mind said. He frowned.

"I mean, how do we do that?"

Draco cocked his head to the side, tucking his hair behind his ear. Temporarily forgetting about the fact that he _shouldn't _be doing this, he thought a bit of flirting was in order. He was enjoying the looks he was receiving from Harry entirely too much. Smirking slightly, he said, "Well, there are several ways, all of which I'd be more than _happy _to try with you.." his smirk grew as Harry began blushing. Silently snickering, he asked, " Where _is _your mind, Potter?"

Harry looked a bit bewildered at the light haired boy, opening his mouth to say just where his mind was but was interrupted by Draco.

"I was implying that you should just tell the Weasel girl how you feel about her and get it over with," said Draco, acting as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry huffed lightly, eyeing the other boy, thinking about what Draco had said.

Lifting an eyebrow at the look Harry had just given him, Draco continued to smirk. He should have tried to befriend the Gryffindor before this; this was just _too _fun.

Finally, Harry sighed.

"That's the thing... I don't know what my feelings are," he stated, stopping to look at the boy face to face. "I like her... it used to be brotherly, like when I went and saved her, but this year, it all changed..." he trailed off, adding at the last moment, "And she's dating Dean right now anyway."

He had forgotten about that part.

Draco returned his look, carefully asking, "How serious is she about this Dean person?"

He wasn't sure if he was the right person, really, to be giving Harry advice, but thought he'd try anyway. Things were just too weird lately to get a proper grasp on.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, I just found out they were together the other day. She seems to like him enough. She won't even go to Hogsmead with me, but she loves to be around me when Ron and Hermione aren't around. Maybe she's afraid Ron will flip out... dunno." he stopped, looking down at his watch, the time flashing 9:23pm.

"Hell. I've got to start walking toward the castle, I have to be in Dumbledore's office at ten..." he bit his lip. "I'd ask when we could talk again, but it seems we always cross paths lately..."

He sighed.

"C'mon, walk some with me, until we're in view of the other students."

Draco nodded lightly, turning around to face the castle, and then shot Harry a look of distaste, murmuring under his breath, "Looks like you spoke to soon."

His gaze was fixed on a certain red-headed male that was walking rather quickly toward them, wand in hand. Draco was quick to fix his face in a sneer, muttering under his breath, "I guess I'll see you later, then. Alright?"

Just as Draco spoke, Ron neared them, glaring daggers at the Slytherin, and said, "Oi, Harry, Malferret bothering you?"

He stepped beside Harry, his wand clenched tightly in his fist, and Draco scowled, lifting an eyebrow at the red-head.

Harry smiled lightly at the oncoming redhead, nodding slightly at his new friend—that still felt so odd to think, but soon, it was time to act and he couldn't dwell on it.

"No, Ron. He was just leaving."

Harry turned and put on his best sneer, giving the Slytherin the once over.

"Isn't that right, Malfoy?" he jeered, then turned, walking with Ron and leaving the other boy behind. He inwardly smiled, hoping that they would be able to meet up soon. Thank the Gods Ron couldn't read minds, he'd piss himself. He sighed, letting the babbling about Malfoy slip from one ear through his head and out the other, dreading the meeting with Dumbledore. More energy draining Pensive work... joy. He shook his head, Ron's colourful words making him smirk.

Draco watched the two Gryffindor's backs in silence, unsure of what to do with himself. He stood there for a moment longer, finding himself already missing Harry's company. _Gods, what is wrong with me? _Placing a cold, collected look on his face, Draco headed toward the castle, shooting angry glares at a first year or two who were still loitering on the steps of the entrance way. He failed to notice an eagle owl fly over head, perching on the ledge of a tower window, hooting softly to itself at having recognized the person they were sent to deliver a letter to.

_**I used to know who I was  
**__**Until you came along  
**__**I return  
**__**To the only place  
**__**I've ever felt  
**__**That I belong..  
**_- Home by Nine Inch Nails


End file.
